


the eye of providence

by minhyukwithagun (deadlylampshades)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, Conspiracy Theories, Jung Jaehyun: a man of rational thinking, Lee Taeyong: a man with an ass tattoo of the Eye of Providence, M/M, it's sort of a scooby doo gang meets buzzfeed unsolved kind of story, luwoo side, taeyong and mark as brothers, the softest hint of side doyu, this is their love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlylampshades/pseuds/minhyukwithagun
Summary: Ah. Alright. Jaehyun understands now. These “Paranormal Society” clowns get a free vacation every week of the year where they hunt for an obviously fake monster, and even in the unlikely event that wendigos do turn out to be real - which they aren’t - they’d actually kill them, thereby vindicating all members of the Society of all accountability. Incredible. Taeyong could quite possibly be running the most ingenious scam of all time. Jaehyun almost finds it genuinely impressive.But Jaehyun looks up into Taeyong’s honey-brown eyes and oh god, he genuinely believes this doesn’t he, he actually thinks that there’s cannibalistic monsters who lives next to the lake and eats people for breakfast.“I’d love if you’d come with,” Taeyong says, looking up.Jaehyun instructs his fluttering heart to shut the fuck up and die.





	the eye of providence

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! i've really wanted to do an unconventional take on the jaeyong dynamic and conspiracy theorist taeyong leapt out at me so this Meaty Boy was born. i considered uploading it in parts and then i was like "nah fuck that" so i hope you enjoy all 50k of this Meaty Boy. 
> 
> my love goes first and foremost to cat, without her comments this fic would not exist. my deepest gratitude goes to the world's best beta [steph](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jinandtonics) for forgiving (and improving) my many sins and lastly, to my darling and dear kali, who was always willing to answer my questions about coffee and the beatles in equal measure, and for her constant enthusiasm <3 
> 
> content warning for a mild spit kink (oops), recreational drug use (nice) and many references to wendigos/cannibalism (it be like that sometimes)

“What do you think sounds more like me - BDSM or baking?” Jaehyun asks, gaze fixed on the university website.

“Jaehyun, in the six years I’ve known you, you’ve never proven yourself to be the kind of person to whip cream _or_ submissives,” Yuta replies. He's boredly scrolling through Twitter, devoting a solid 2% of his attention towards Jaehyun.

Jaehyun scowls, looking over with distaste at how Yuta is currently draped over his bed in a manner that’s far too comfortable. “It's not _just_ bondage. It clearly says on their page that they welcome and embrace all sorts of individuals who have sexual preferences and proclivities that do not necessarily align with the mainstream-”

“Jaehyun, what does BDSM stands for?” Yuta questions.

He hesitates, trying to figure out if he can type softly enough to Google it without getting caught. “Look - I know the S stands for sex.”

“Jaehyun, give up.” Yuta rolls his eyes before going back to Twitter. “You’ve already exhausted half the alphabet looking for a Society that’s still got an opening.”

Yuta clearly doesn’t comprehend the gravity of this situation. Like, yeah, it isn’t _hard_ to find an extracurricular at the University of New Central Technology since as their website proudly boasts, they have ‘forty eight societies and counting!’. It is Jaehyun’s fault, fundamentally, because he knew it was a graduation requirement since he came to this hellhole three years earlier, and it’s not that difficult to sacrifice one semester to joining some dumb Society. They’re all student run and as a consequence, are all ridiculous. Jaehyun, quite frankly, would rather die than join the society formed about the shared passion that comes with liking LEGO.

“There’s gotta be one left, I know it,” Jaehyun grits his teeth. Yuta scoffs, and resumes being entertained by his phone, punctuating each passing moment with the occasional laugh. Jaehyun has no such joy. He continues scrolling, exhausting several more letters in an attempt to find just _one_ society with an opening he can wedge himself into.

“Showchoir?” Jaehyun suggest. “What do you think about showchoir? I can sing. You know I can sing.”

“I know you can sing but that’s only because I had the misfortune of accompanying you to showers,” Yuta says with a scowl. “Check if they have openings. I doubt it. You know how theatre kids are. Now take that, and multiply it by ten, and you have musical theatre kids.”

_You can’t stop the beat … however sign-ups are closed for the university year! I dream a dream that you’ll reapply next year! You won’t throw away your shot!_

“Closed,” Jaehyun sighs as he reads the website. “Whatever. I don’t care. The only worthy musical is Jesus Christ Superstar and you have to be stoned to _really_ appreciate it.”

Yuta peers up over his phone. “What are you looking so sad for? You've only just heard about the Society, you can't actually feel disappointed you didn't get in.”

“It's not disappointment,” Jaehyun says, but he'd be lying if the idea of bewitching the student population of his university with his voice wasn’t enticing. “It's worry.”

“If it’s any consolation, Jaehyun, I’m pretty sure no one would care how good of an singer you are, they’d probably just show up because you’re pretty.”

“Thanks, I think, but also fuck you.”

“Most of these societies already have their membership closed, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, what you _should_ have done was taken up an extracurricular in first year like everyone else did. Remind me again why you didn’t - because I _love_ this story.”

“I was busy!” Jaehyun protests. He really _doesn’t_ love this story, cringing at the very memory of his dumb, lust-driven nineteen year old self.

“You really weren't! You wasted a whole year at that fucking skatepark, pretending you knew how to skate trying - and failing - to get in that punk girl’s ripped jeans!”

“Okay, don’t bring her up at a time like this. I’m still tender over that particular rejection.”

“God, it was so hilarious. She didn’t even _like_ you. You couldn’t even skate. You almost broke your collarbone and _died_. Oh, best year of my life, Jaehyun, best year of my life.” Yuta leans against the pillow, grinning. “You remember it right, Jae, you remember that cone they made you wear?”

“Yes. I wish I actually died from it so I wouldn’t have to listen to this.”

Yuta’s face grows solemn. “Unfortunately for you, you’ve made a miraculous recovery and I get to make fun of you for the rest of your life.” He pauses and looks off into the distance, wistfully. “My semester taking up Dance is a memory I'll treasure for the rest of my life, I think. I just feel sorry that you didn't get to experience a similar spiritual growth.”

Jaehyun sighs and skips to the next letter. He's only been here for about an hour but already feels like he's aged a good thirty years. The thing is, what he’s been trying to derive sympathy from Yuta over, is that he’s running out of time. It’s already two months into the year and pretty much everyone is too ‘good’ to have late entries - even the LEGO society turned him away, in an email that was a sickly shade of yellow and written in Comic Sans. And Jaehyun is _not_ about to graduate late because the goddamn Quidditch team told him “You’ve missed the Hogwarts Express! Capture the magic next year!”. Fuck them and their fake sport.

“Isn’t there a Skateboarding Society?” Yuta muses aloud.

“Yeah there is,” Jaehyun says after checking. He frowns. “But I already sold my skateboard and my knee pads. I’m not buying another set.”

He didn’t sell it. He broke the board attempting to do a flip off a bench, and decided that next time it could be his arm, he just never went back to the skatepark after that. Coincidentally, it was around this time Hot Skater Girl got an equally Hot Skater Boyfriend who could do more than ride in a straight line. 

“Yuta, what am I supposed to do?” Jaehyun despairs, pounding his fist on the desk. It kinda hurts. “I don’t want to come back to this hellhole next year just to join a fucking club.” 

“Aww, but that would mean you’d still be around in my final year, and that just makes me want to keep you here.” Yuta puts his hand to his chest and shoots a smile. “You know I’ll miss you _terribly_.”

Yuta is, as always, a waste of a human being. Jaehyun says this to him and Yuta pretends to be offended for about two minutes before he sits upright, massaging his temples. “Alright, alright, okay stop looking like you’re about to cry. I’ll actually try and help.”

“Yuta, _please_.”

Clucking his tongue, Yuta opens his phone and Jaehyun is about to chastise him for going back to Twitter at a time like this, but it looks like he’s scrolling through his contacts. “Okay, right, I might have an idea. This could actually work. I have a friend who runs a society, I’m sure some strings can be pulled.”

“Oh my God, Yuta, why didn’t you tell me that earlier?! Yes, yes, _yes_. Tell them I want to join!” Jaehyun’s mind races. He won’t have to come back for his extracurricular credit, he can leave, he won’t ever have to eat the ambiguous meat served in the cafeteria ever again, he owes everything to Yuta and his cryptic connections-

“By the way, though. There is one slight problem,” Yuta says. “Well, it’s not a problem. More of a…” he pauses, deciding on the word. “Conflict of interest.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow. “What is it?”

“He runs the Paranormal Society,” Yuta says.

A silence falls on the room. “The Paranormal Society? Like… ghosts and shit?”

“And shit, yes,” Yuta nods. “He’s an old friend of mine, really, I know him from first year Dance, but if I’m not mistaken he got really into conspiracy theories and cryptids over the past few years. So much so that he made a whole Society dedicated to it.”

Jaehyun purses his lips. “Oh. Ghosts aren’t real though.”

“Yeah. I know you think that.”

“I mean, neither do you, right? We watch Ghost Adventures together to take the piss out of it. He hasn’t indoctrinated you?” Jaehyun asks, briefly worried. He wouldn’t put past the weirdos who’d make an entire organization dedicated to the ‘paranormal’ to employ some sinister propaganda and turn his best friend from the noble path of rationality and science.

“God, no. I’m not crazy. _He_ kinda is, though. He’s sort of obsessed. I was at a party once where he told off the host for playing music made by known Illuminati associates.” Yuta pauses. “He wasn’t always like this. When I knew him, he was semi-normal. Now he’s…”

“Semi-Fruit-Loops?”

“Yeah.” Yuta exhales, running a hand over his forehead.

“Yuta, I can’t… I can’t.” Jaehyun would not call himself any sort of saint, but he had a certain set of morals that he stuck to, and to suggest that he should just lie was just… unethical. “I mean… is he _that_ bad? Like I’m sure I can handle it if he just keeps his beliefs to himself.”

“He started that rumour that Johnny Seo was the Zodiac Killer. Which is just, chronologically impossible as well as being factually flawed.”

“What did Johnny _do_ to him? He’s just a nice man who does the university radio. God, Yuta, I can’t get involved in this. It sounds like a cult.”

“Look, I figured you’d say no, but I also figured you’re desperate,” Yuta says, locking his phone.

“I _am_ desperate, don’t get me wrong, but Yuta, that’s insane. I don’t believe in any of that crap, I can’t be expected to join a society about it. They’ll kick me out in the first meeting.”

“It’s got nothing to do with me, Jaehyun.” Yuta shrugs, having apparently expended the maximum amount of assistance he was able to expend in a twenty-four hour period. “You asked for help and I gave you help.”

“I have my morals, Yuta.”

“You do? How boring.” And _that_ apparently was the final limits of Yuta’s capacity for caring, because now he’s back to lying on his back, scrolling on Twitter. “I tried, man.”

Jaehyun sighs, going back to the computer, searching under another letter.

“Oh, yeah, and Jaehyun? Email me the link to that BDSM Society though, I think I’ll apply next semester. They sound like my kinda people.”

◬

The only time in history that Jaehyun ever approached the mediocre campus coffee shop with butterflies in his stomach was when he was recovering from severe diarrhea due to spoiled milk and needed to vent his frustrations to the nearest barista. Jaehyun most definitely is not recovering from any sort of illness when he approaches the coffee shop today, grinning broadly, his bronze hair neatly combed back as a result of twenty minutes spent in front of the bathroom mirror. Yuta trails moodily behind him, only willing to grace Jaehyun with his presence because of his bribe of free coffee.

“So I’ve crunched the numbers. I know you’re the math major, but I’m not too bad myself. Do you know, if you join that fucking Earl Grey Society, your sex appeal goes down by about sixty percent? You’re not awful looking but Jaehyun, you aren’t hot enough to play around with those kind of numbers,” Yuta warns, sliding into a table, lifting up his sleeve to avoid the unidentified stain on the surface.

“Okay, right, first of all, SociTEA serves a variety of caffeinated _and_ non-caffeinated beverages that are not just limited to tea,” Jaehyun says, and he does a pretty good job of reciting the website’s summary from memory but Yuta has seen this party trick one time too many to be interested.

“No one joins the fucking Tea Society man, no one’s _that_ passionate about tea. It’s just leaf water. That’s literally it. Whatever though, while you’re trying to smooth-talk the President, order me a cafe crema. Two sugars.”

Jaehyun cranes his neck, trying to identify which one of the three baristas on duty is the one he’s looking for. “It said on the website that the president’s name was Jurina. Which one does she look like?”

“Well, running off blatant and potentially incorrect assumptions, I’ll assume it’s the black-haired girl on the side who’s currently staring at us for coming into her coffee shop to sit down and not order anything,” Yuta replies. “Good luck. Don’t forget about my drink.”

Inhaling deeply while plastering on his most convincing smile, he walks to the side of the counter. Jurina is really pretty with hair in a neat bob and Jaehyun tries to flutter his eyelashes as he approaches. If she was tea, she’d be jasmine, all light fragrance and refined aroma reminiscent of spring.

“Hi there!” he says. “Are you Jurina?”

She nods, looking from side to side, as if concerned that she might be in trouble. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help?”

“My name is Jaehyun, I’m a senior. I was perusing the university’s website one winter’s evening when I came across your society… or should I say,” Jaehyun lowers his voice, “your Soci _TEA_. I would be incredibly honoured if you’d accept me as a member. I’m deeply passionate about many kinds of beverages.” He leans against the counter, staring wistfully into the distance. “Why I recall one of my fondest memories of my dear father before he passed on - God bless his soul - was him making a cup of hot green tea in the morning before work-”

“I am incredibly sorry about your father,” Jurina interjects, eyebrows raised. “But we’re not accepting any more members. I’m so sorry, it’s just too late in the year..”

Jaehyun stares. “But. But your website-”

“Oh… we never update that thing. It’s not like anyone checks UNCT’s website anyway,” Jurina says gently. “I’m really sorry Jaehyun, but you can always apply next year.” She pauses and reconsiders: “Wait, you’re a senior? Uh, nevermind.”

It’s an amazing display of self-control that Jaehyun doesn’t swear in front of her. He’s a gentleman, and that’s why at least has the presence of mind to thank her for her time, and then turn around before letting his speech pattern devolve into a series of “fuck, oh God why, shit, fuck”. Fuck Jurina and fuck that comparison to jasmine. If she was tea, she’d be a broken tea bag, spilling spices into the cup, ruining everything and the drinker’s morning. 

“Rough day?”

Jaehyun looks up and stares at the source of the voice - in this case, what must surely be a runaway model from the fashion design department or perhaps more fancifully, an angel recently descended from heaven. He’s _gorgeous_ , that much is obvious, and Jaehyun’s a run-of-the-mill Maths major, thank you very much, he doesn’t need artistic metaphors or literary comparisons, but even Jaehyun-the-Maths-major finds himself needing something beyond his English to describe just how _gorgeous_ this guy is. 

Wide doe-like eyes in the center of a face so symmetrical it’s like a mirror of itself, he has fluffy hair surround him - dyed a dark menacing red, the only feature that betrays his celestial aura.

“Very rough day,” Jaehyun answers, attempting to keep his heart rate under control. “Just got some bad news.”

He nods, interested and sincere.“What’s your coffee order?” he asks, and his voice has a delicate roughness to it, like a blunt knife. His hands are on his wallet, taking out several bills.

It must be a trap. Such an innocuous question is a trap. No one asks anything like that for no reason, this was probably an answer to a security question on some banking website - not that Jaehyun has too many objections to any crimes this guy could commit in Jaehyun’s name. As far as he’s concerned, any manner to spend more time with him, the better, even if it’s between prison walls. The problem is that Jaehyun cannot begin to remember his coffee order at this present time, not with the way he’s staring into eager, waiting eyes. He doesn’t even like coffee. He’s more a lukewarm Pepsi mixed with day old vodka kind of guy.

“Uh… cafe crema. Two sugars.”

“Oh, what an unusual choice! I love cafe crema too!” he says. He steps in front of the line while Jaehyun continues openly staring at him. He’s stolen Yuta’s coffee order, and would probably steal his identity, if demanded it: so really, Yuta came off pretty good in this situation. Jaehyun is unashamed to be entirely and irrationally controlled by lust at this point - but is it really just lust if the fantasies playing out in Jaehyun’s mind consist of finding out how this stranger likes his eggs in the morning?

He’s been a bit too wrapped up in his dreams of domestic bliss because he still doesn’t entirely realize what’s happening until the guy physically puts the cup in his hand. Jaehyun must be slower than he thinks he is.

“Wait, I didn’t… pay for this,” Jaehyun says, trying to feel for his wallet, but just lending to the illusion that he’s grabbing his own ass in public.

“Don’t worry about it!” the guy smiles widely. Oh no, he’s got nice teeth, like the kind that dentists would put a poster of on their office walls as an example of the pinnacle of human perfection. “This one’s on me. I hope you have a better day now, okay?”

With a squeeze of his shoulder, the redhead takes his own coffee and disappears, leaving Jaehyun to flounder under Jurina’s glare and somehow stumble back to the table where Yuta waits, on his phone. Jaehyun deposits himself into the seat and tries to recover from the whirlwind of emotions that come with falling in love at first sight - and the distance from the object of his affection does him good to bring clarity to the situation. He mutely sips from the straw, and Yuta looks up from his phone, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, are you drinking _my_ drink?” Yuta says, reaching across the table and lunging for it. “Fucking hell, I don’t want your germs. I don’t know what you kiss. I’ve seen you eat food off the ground - I don’t trust anything that comes from your mouth.”

“Give that back!”

“No! You said you’d buy me a drink if I came with you!”

“I’ll buy you another but let me have this one. A hot guy bought it for me!” There’s a hint of pride in Jaehyun’s voice.

Yuta’s eyes widen and he loosens his grip on the cup enough for Jaehyun to slide it back to him, holding it protectively. Not enough time has been given for full rational thought to return yet and Jaehyun is fully pretended to throw down in the middle of the coffeeshop over this drink.

“Oh? Is that so? Has my dearest Jaehyun found someone foolish enough for an admirer?” Yuta says. “Who was it? Jurina?”

Jaehyun glances up, and he’s suddenly very grateful that his ‘admirer’ decided to dye his hair. “God, no. Not her, I told you it was a guy. The one in the corner. The red hair.”

“Red hair?”

“Yes. God, isn’t he gorgeous?”

“With the… with that like. Face.”

“God, yes, that _face_ ,” Jaehyun says, sighing wistfully.

Yuta bites down on his lip to stop himself from laughing. “Huh. Well then. Small world.”

He still hates coffee, but right now, he thinks cafe crema with two sugars might be the nectar of the gods. “Do you know who he is?” Jaehyun demands.

Yuta ignores him. “What happened with Jurina?”

“Who?”

“The SociTEA girl? The one you just spoke to? _Jurina_? You wouldn’t stop talking about her last night.”

Oh. Her. “Why do you keep bringing her up? Yeah, she basically told me to die.”

“So it’s fine when she does it, but when I do it, I’m a bad friend?”

 “You’re a bad friend because you won’t tell me why you’re laughing at the nice man who bought me a coffee. You’re an awful friend. A terrible person in general.”

Yuta leans back in his chair. “God, you can be so clingy. Yeah, I know who he is. His name is Taeyong.”

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun repeats. A nice name. It’s a very nice name. Every other Taehyung, Taeyang or Taeyong should _quit_ , because no one else will suit the name better than the one currently playing with a curl of red hair, sipping his drink.

“I have some more good news. He’s into guys.”

He could figure that much out, judging from the amount of piercings he had on one ear, but Jaehyun appreciates the clarification nonetheless. “God, he’s divine. Maybe I should go over and offer to buy him a scone.”

Taeyong is sitting opposite another guy, one that’s much larger than Taeyong. They appear to be making plans together, judging from the amount of times they look up from their phone screens to trace directions in the air. The dramatic gestures of the larger guy send the salt shaker flying off the table, and Taeyong’s eyes crinkle in mirth as he picks it up.

“Yuta, if you set me up with Taeyong, I will give you Number One Best Friend mugs for the rest of your life. I’ll do all your laundry for you for a month. I’ll give you the rest of my Monster cans, even the limited edition ones,” Jaehyun says. “You just _have_ to.”

Even his fingers are beautiful. He traces lines through the air and then pretends to erase them like it’s a whiteboard duster. It’s so _cute_.

“God, I fucking love my life sometimes,” Yuta says to himself and then leans forward. “Jaehyun?”

“Yuta?”

“You know what would be amazing?” he muses, teeth showing in the grin he’s got on his face. “If there was some sort of magical way that you could both get closer to Taeyong _and_ be in a society to fulfill your graduation requirement.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “I mean, yes, that would be amazing.”

“So, you agree? It’s the ideal solution?” Yuta persists.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

With that, Yuta nods triumphantly and grabs Jaehyun by the hand and leads him to Taeyong’s table, navigating among the other table placed across the coffeeshop.

“Wait, no, hold on, I didn’t fix my hair, and I didn’t work out today, or yesterday, or for the past week, wait-”

Yuta deposits Jaehyun in front of the table and grins. “Taeyong! Lucas!” he says, looking at the two men from left to right, patting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “It’s so good to see you again! You’re looking well! Fancy running into you here.”

“Yuta, is that you?” Taeyong says, face turning up in joy. “I’m glad to see you too! Wow, it’s been so long hasn’t it?”

“Too long,” Lucas says, and his voice is terrifyingly low. “I never even got a chance to thank you for giving me directions to that pet shop!”

“Oh it’s my pleasure, don’t worry about it,” Yuta says, waving a hand. “Jungwoo always hooks me up with his employee discount.”

“Funny you should mention Jungwoo and hooking up-” Lucas begins.

“Ah, now’s not really the time, Lucas,” Taeyong says quickly, carefully taking in the sight of Jaehyun standing next to Yuta. “Oh. Hi there! I just met you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Jaehyun’s voice comes out as a squeak. “You bought me my coffee.”

Yuta coughs and it sounds something like: “ _my_ coffee.” He’s ignored, as he should be.

“Has your day gotten any better, by any chance?” Taeyong seems genuinely invested, eyes wide with interest.

Jaehyun almost says something unforgivably gay like: “It’s better now that you’re smiling at me.”

Thankfully, his reputation is saved by Yuta fondly slapping him on the back. “This is my best friend, closest companion, occasional wingman, the man who lights my joints for me, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is Taeyong and Lucas.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lucas says and holds out his fist. Jaehyun bumps it and then instantly feels emasculated in the difference in hand size. Lucas’s fist is a bit like a Thanksgiving ham, just bigger.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Jaehyun says, looking at Taeyong who shyly stares at the table. Oh, god, he’s so cute, Jaehyun feels like he’s going to throw up hearts emojis.

“It was nothing. It’s good to see you smile.”

Yuta looks like he might burst out a vein from the giggle he’s suppressing. He coughs and slaps a hand on Lucas’s back. “We really should all meet up and chat sometime, I’m eager to find out how your cats are doing.”

“They’re a lot better since I met Jungwoo. Did you know you’re not just supposed to cut the bag open and just let them eat whenever? So weird, I had no idea man,” Lucas says.

“I can’t stay too long right now, unfortunately. Animal Hospital’s calling,” Yuta says, waving his phone, ignoring the look of disbelief from Jaehyun. He turns to Taeyong. “But, you know, my friend here, Jaehyun, he was just telling me about this documentary about ghosts he was watching, and he’s just so fascinated, and I just thought it must be destiny, to run into you: the president of the Paranormal Society.”

And Jaehyun stares from Yuta to Taeyong. The documentary was Ghost Adventures. He was so stoned, he thought there was a fourth Ghost Adventurer who was a ghost and that was the twist. It was fascinating in the way it is watching babies put the blocks in the incorrect shape hole.

His smile is so blinding it almost deflects from his words. “Oh Jaehyun,” Taeyong says, “Would you like to join?”

◬

There was some theory that he read at the back of a cereal box that posed that soulmates were just people whose atoms were next to each other when the universe was created. Jaehyun always thought that particular theory was really fanciful, unrealistic, and pretty gay - but keeping that in mind, he did think he had to have some sort of bond to Yuta that transcended the limits of tangible reality.  It's the only real explanation for why Jaehyun still speaks to Yuta, even after his ultimate betrayal.

He stands outside the door to Private Study Room F127 and the only thing that differentiates it from the identical rooms of Private Study Room F126 and F128 is the paper sign neatly plastered to the door.

 

**Paranormal Society Meeting!**

**_(New members always welcome!!)_ **

Yuta flips the paper up and from the text printed on the back, it looks like the lunch menu of today, with the burger special circled. There’s even accompanying grease stains. Jaehyun can’t help but wonder why the Paranormal Society doesn’t have enough money in their budget to print out notices themselves, rather than recycling the menus.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jaehyun says. “This can’t be real.”

“Come now, Jaehyun, you’ve come this far,” Yuta says. “Think of it as ‘broadening your horizons’.”

“I don’t want to be this far at all! And I think I’m the perfect amount of broad as is!”

Yuta fakes a yawn. “Oh come now, don’t be so whiny. Neither of us want you to do an extra year. I’ve had my eye on that double bed in your room since first year, so as far as I’m concerned, you better graduate. I’ve got a lot of future sex partners planned for that bed, and I’m not having it as a timeshare with you.”

“You’re not having sex on my fucking bed, Yuta.” 

“Just knock on the goddamn door.”

There comes a time in every man’s life where he needs to stand up to his incredibly charismatic and chaotic best friend, and Jaehyun decides that this time has arrived.

“No,” Jaehyun says, crossing his arms. “I’m not going to.”

“Come on. You can get friendly with that thing that lives in the lake in Scotland. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Nessie?”

“See? You’re on a first name basis with her already. You’re perfect for this,” Yuta says, taking the initiative to knock on the door for him. “This is your last chance to graduate on time, Jae. Don’t fuck it up.”

The door swings open, and a cheerful boy with a mop of blonde hair looks up at him, gazing in confusion. Perhaps it’s their appearance. He and Yuta probably don’t look like the normal calibre of conspiracy theorists. But then again, Taeyong was a god among mortals and he was the damn President, so perhaps Jaehyun shouldn’t make such harsh assumptions.  

“If you’re looking for the Hip Hop Society, that’s room 514,” he says, pointing down the hall.

“We’re actually here for the Paranormal Society,” Yuta says. “Taeyong knows we’re coming.”

"Oh my God, is he psychic?"

"No, we just emailed him."

“Though, is the Hip Hop Society still accepting members?” Jaehyun interjects, trying to remember that one Snoop Dogg song he liked when he was 12. That, like, definitely counted, right?

The boy’s eyebrows furrow but he steps back to let them inside. “I don’t know, I mean - I’m not part of the Hip Hop Society.”

 Jaehyun figures his own predictions of what the meeting place should look like was perhaps too influenced by movies: he is disappointed to find wooden desks and plastic chairs instead of candles illuminating a dungeon, accompanied with bloodstains spilled across the floor. Rather, the only thing on the floor appears to be a rather large hand metal detector and a giant map of a forest.

Jaehyun scans the room and his eyes land on the makeshift roundtable constructed from several desks put together and counts five people in total - three at the table and two at the door. He then proceeds to ignore everyone else except Taeyong, sitting at the head of the table, and his beautiful face blossoms into a _smile_ upon seeing Jaehyun.

Or well, he smiles at seeing Yuta. Because Yuta walked in first. But it still counts.

“You came! I was hoping you would!” Taeyong exclaims. “I _told_ you he’d come, Chenle!” He looks surprisingly studious with the briefcase in front of him, surrounded by papers.

The boy who opened the door forces his lips into a smile. “Yup, you were definitely right about that. Alright then,” Chenle says, holding out a fishbowl that’s currently got three phones and what appears to be a pager from the late 80’s in it. “Phones in the bowl.”

Yuta complies instantly, sliding his phone out from his back pocket and handing it to Chenle but Jaehyun hesitates. Mostly he isn’t sure if he closed his browser history. No one in this room needs to see he googled how to spell the word ‘squeeze’.

“Why?”

“We don’t allow phones. No recording of meetings permitted. Phones are also too easy to be tracked,” Chenle says.

“But who would track my phone? I’m not a person of interest.”

“It’s true,” Yuta chirps. “He’s the most boring man I’ve met. His favourite meal is a cheese sandwich.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Jaehyun snaps, and stops himself from continuing further and losing anymore of his dignity. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him and begrudgingly fishes out his phone and drops it on top of Yuta’s.

He walks past Yuta to get a seat, already thoroughly prickled by the level of security this Society deems necessary but is halted by Chenle again, holding up the metal detector.

“Sorry. I need to scan you. It’s standard procedure,” he says, lifting up the wand. He looks like a tiny little TSA security agent, and just as grumpy as one. 

“Why the f-... Why do I need to be scanned? I mean it’s a university, it’s not like I can have anything that dangerous to begin with?” Jaehyun says, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

It’s Taeyong who answers. He looks as flawless as he did last Monday. Perhaps more so, as his shirt fits tighter today. It doesn’t make what he says any less ridiculous. “It’s less about what you carry with you physically and more about who you _are_. I was reading an article recently about how everyday humans are being replaced by eerily lifelike androids, having their entire lives stolen, and none of their friends or family even notices!”

“It’s fucking awful, man.” It’s Lucas who says this, and Jaehyun is surprised he even remembers his name when so far in speech to Yuta, he only referred to him as The-Guy-Who-Sat-Next-To-Taeyong. “Can you imagine meeting your best friend and they aren’t even _them_ but you don’t know because you’ve been _fooled_? Dude.”

The guy with floppy hair next to Lucas nods solemnly at this. “Would be horrible.”

“Android replacement is a genuine threat. The androids themselves may not even know they’re fake,” Chenle adds, moving closer to him, brandishing the metal detector.

And then, just because Yuta is a horrible human being who thrives on chaos, he adds: “Oh shit, Jae, what if we’re androids? You know, I’ve noticed you talking to the microwave the other day. We better check. Can’t risk it.” Jaehyun makes a mental note to strangle Yuta at the next opportunity, and then decides against it, because Yuta is awful enough to probably find that arousing.

Jaehyun, surprisingly, truly surprisingly, isn’t a robot. He passes the metal detection with no interruptions, but as he attempts to move past, he hears it beep over Yuta.

He can literally _see_ Taeyong’s eyes widen. “Yuta, do you still have your phone?”

“No, I took it out,” Yuta replies, looking at the wand carefully. “Try it again.”

Chenle is slower this time, waving the wand from his neck to his feet, and when it passes by Yuta’s crotch, it beeps again, the only sound in the quiet room.

“Belt buckle?” the soft-voiced, floppy haired guy next to Lucas suggests.

“He hasn’t got one on,” Chenle informs them, and now Jaehyun realizes that all eyes are on Yuta, who seems to be growing increasingly flustered. It’s nothing he doesn’t deserve though, and Jaehyun crosses his arms, figuring he’s probably just kept some pocket change in his underwear.

“Yuta, when was the last time you had a human emotion? What do you feel when you think of your mother’s embrace?” Taeyong says carefully. “If you’re an android, there are options. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Taeyong, buddy, my man, I don’t know how to put this delicately but I’m not a robot. I’ve just got a ring in my dick.”

 Chenle steps back so quickly he almost stumbles over the map. “Oh! Alright then!”

 _That_ was a new addition. “You’ve never told me that,” Jaehyun says, almost offended.

 “It’s hardly your business.” And then in a hushed whisper, Yuta adds: “I was planning on just whipping it out next time we got drunk.”

  “Right, uh,” Taeyong says, speaking in a tone that conveys authority, “if we’re all sorted, we can sit down and begin?”

It’s for the best that Yuta sits next to Taeyong. Jaehyun isn’t entirely sure where his thoughts lie on the man at the moment: he’s incredibly beautiful but he also just claimed that people got replaced by robots. He’s going to need some time to come around to this. If he can. Jury’s still out.

So Jaehyun sits on the end and it’s not like he had high hopes for the Paranormal Society but he also expected it to be slightly more than Taeyong and his literal _handful_ of friends.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to our meeting. As we can see, we’re honoured to have two guests today: my friends Yuta and Jaehyun!” Taeyong says, turning to face the two of them, stirring up unenthusiastic applause. “I’m Taeyong, the President. To my left is Lucas, my Vice, and over there next to him, we have Jungwoo and Chenle.”

“Are you two new members?” Jungwoo asks, smiling.

“Uh. Somewhat,” Yuta answers, looking to Jaehyun for confirmation. “We’re still deciding. Trying to fit it in our schedules.”

Chenle seems displeased with this answer. “It shouldn’t be difficult. Either you have a genuine interest in collaboratively discussing and unravelling the mysterious of the unknown or you don’t.”

“Now Chenle, come on, they can take their time to decide,” Taeyong chides. He shoots Jaehyun a dazzling smile and says: “But I hope they do join.”

“Oh. Yes,” Jaehyun agrees, compelled by the force of Taeyong’s perfect teeth. Next to him, Yuta makes a sound like a dying cat as he restrains his laughter.

Taeyong steps out of his chair to place the map on the table. “It’s not a very interesting meeting today, unfortunately, we’re mostly just planning our annual hike up to Mirror Lake. It looks like we’ll be a small party this year… membership has dwindled.” He traces his hand from a section of forest to a prominent lake.

“Don’t worry about it, Mister President! It’s just a matter of time before more people join!” Lucas chirps in. “Besides, I’m sure we’ll have a good time on the trip, even with just us. Just the usual gang, all squashed in the van, eating chips and singing along to the radio!”

“Ah. Is now a bad time to say I can’t make it?” Chenle mumbles under his breath.

It’s not really Jaehyun’s place to judge, but he judges anyway. How _dare_ Chenle not go to whatever the fuck they were planning? Jaehyun does wonders why they all look so personally betrayed, however.

“I’ve got an insane amount of coursework due, I can’t just pack up and go to the mountains for a week! It’s my parent’s wedding anniversary, and he’ll never forgive me if I miss the party. You _know_ how dramatic my dad can be. I’m really sorry guys.”

“Chenle, you’re dead to us,” Jungwoo says, and the proclamation is shocking in his soft voice. He twists his chair so it faces Lucas.

“Hey, I can still help you plan everything out! I’ll get the camera equipment out of storage, clean the traps and everything!” Chenle pleads. “I’ll even wake up early to see you guys off!”

“Wait, sorry, cameras, traps?” Yuta says. “What exactly are you doing at Mirror Lake?”

Taeyong looks at Yuta and blinks. “Oh God, I’m a horrible President. I can’t believe I didn’t even explain why we’re going up there.”

He rifles through his briefcase, and it affords Jaehyun an opportunity to observe how delicately and perfectly crafted his fingers are. There’s a singular ring on his left thumb and it makes him sort of look like a mob boss, but also like a man of money. Taeyong pulls out what looks like a photograph shat out by the year 1950 and slides it to Yuta and Jaehyun.

It’s in a forest, and the subject of the photograph appears to be some sort of humanoid beast, with sallow cheeks and long fangs. It’s covered in fur and while it’s hard to judge from the angle of the photo, it appears to be rather tall. Most likely if one was walking in the woods some summer night and ran into this fellow, they’d probably piss themselves. 

All in all, it’s probably a nice bit of Photoshop. 

 “That’s a wendigo,” Taeyong says and then adds a theatrical pause, as if to leave time for gasps. None occur.

“It certainly does look like one,” Jaehyun replies diplomatically. “What is a wendigo?” He’s almost certain he hears Chenle scoff.

But Taeyong seems patient, sliding another photo to Jaehyun, and it’s pretty much the same creature, just this time chewing on what appears to be either a human leg or a giant hot dog. Most likely the former.

“They’re cannibalistic monsters found in the very woods surrounding Mirror Lake. They were once men, but have been cursed. Wendigos are creatures of greed, controlled by hunger,  and people who engage in cannibalism turn into these terrifying beasts that exist only to kill and eat. They’re bigger than any human, stronger than human and crueler than any human.  There have been on and off sightings for the past few years. Adding to these sightings, there are several historical anecdotes about people going missing and never being found…” Taeyong’s voice takes on a solemn tone.

“Not a good spot for camping then,” Yuta remarks. “Why not just go to another part of the forest that has less cannibalism per capita?”

Lucas jumps to his feet in excitement. “That’s the point! We need to catch a glimpse of these guys so we can find out if they’re real or not - and if they are, we’ve got to get them before they can cause any more problems and hurt any more people.”

Jaehyun stares at the spots on the map Taeyong traces. How does one ‘get’ a wendigo, and what does someone do when they have a wendigo? Put it in a cage for the next circus? Skin it and use the pelt as an alternative to bear skin rug?

“So, there’s this cabin at the lake that some of the aquaculture students use, that the university will give us for the week. Generally, we stay there, lay out some traps, do some observations, and just have a good time.”

“No alcohol allowed,” Lucas quickly adds. “We had an incident two years ago when one of our old members, Ten, took a nosedive into the lake and it got a bit dicey. So Taeyong introduced a strict policy against all substances.”

Ah. Alright. Jaehyun understands now. These “Paranormal Society” clowns get a free vacation every week of the year where they hunt for an obviously fake monster, and even in the unlikely event that wendigos do turn out to be real - which they _aren’t_ \- they’d actually kill them, thereby vindicating all members of the Society of all accountability. Incredible. Taeyong could quite possibly be running the most ingenious scam of all time. Jaehyun almost finds it genuinely impressive. 

But Jaehyun looks up into Taeyong’s honey-brown eyes and oh god, he genuinely believes this doesn’t he, he actually thinks that there’s a fucking cannibalistic monster who lives next to the lake and eats people for breakfast.

“I’d love if you’d come with,” Taeyong says, looking up. “Maybe one day?”

Jaehyun instructs his fluttering heart to shut the fuck up and die.

“Have any of you seen a wendigo yet?” Yuta interrupts, pushing the photographs back to him.

“Not yet. But we can’t cross out the possibility yet. We’ll only throw in the towel when the President says so,” Lucas says, gesturing to Taeyong.

“And the university just… lets you stay here? A nice relaxing time in the woods?” Jaehyun says, quite hung up over the fact that when he applied for financial aid for his textbooks, he got told to pirate it online like everyone else.

“There’s no cellphone reception,” Jungwoo says. “It’s quite secluded actually, so it’s really no holiday resort if that’s what you’re thinking. That being said, it is quite nice. The stars are amazing.”

Taeyong says something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘Russian surveillance satellites’ but Jaehyun decides to just ignore that.

“Lucas, are you okay with driving us there this year?” Taeyong asks. “I’d offer but, you know, no license.”

“No problem, President. You know I’m here for everything you need.”

Jungwoo laughs under his breath at some hidden joke. All in all, it appears that of the four present members of the Paranormal Society, Jungwoo might be the most normal. But then again, Jaehyun hasn’t heard him speak that much yet and he’s been learning a lot about judging incorrectly based on first impressions.

“So, since Chenle isn’t going- no, Lucas don’t look at him like that it’s not his fault- that means we’ll leave next week Monday morning and the car will be me, you, Mark and Jungwoo.” Taeyong counts the names off on his fingers and seems to deflate a little when he still has a pinky left. “Oh. Wow. We’re not even a full car this year. That’s… disappointing.”

“Isn’t Ten coming?” Jungwoo asks.

“I doubt it. He’s busy with… he’s busy,” Taeyong answers. “Renjun took up soccer, I doubt he can come either. And I highly doubt any of the original members would make it.”

Jaehyun would blame the forlorn sigh that leaves Taeyong as the catalyst for his next words. He just looks so _sad_ , so utterly downhearted. He still holds his pinky up, as if waiting for someone else to join. There’s a visible frown on his face and disappointment radiates off of him. And Jaehyun can’t handle seeing him so upset, it’s like against his primal urge to protect this beautiful misguided man in front of him.

“I mean… if you’d like, I could come,” Jaehyun finds himself saying.

He’s aware of Yuta staring at him, mouth hanging open. “Jaehyun, uh, that’s…”

But it’s too late. Jaehyun’s realized what he said too late. The words have been unleashed into the world and now they’re running out and pissing on fire hydrants. Taeyong’s smile shines across his face. “Oh gosh, really?!”

“Uh-” Jaehyun begins.

“Wow I’d hoped you’d want to come but I didn’t want to try and force you two, it’s your first meeting after all. Oh this is wonderful, I’m so _so_ glad to hear. Yuta, would you like to come as well? We could borrow Jungwoo’s mom’s van-”

“No we can’t,” Jungwoo says, politely but decisively.

“Okay, we’ll make another plan but-”

“Oh I can’t,” Yuta says quickly. “I’ve got vet stuff to do at the Animal Hospital. You know, all those sick animals? They’ll _die_ if I leave. If I go with you, I will be _killing_ all those puppies.”

Jungwoo makes a whimpering noise.

“Oh God, okay, I understand entirely,” Taeyong nods. “It’s alright, don’t even worry about it.”

Jaehyun cranes his neck to glare at Yuta. “Yuta. Are you sure you can’t come with? Are you absolutely confident none of your friends can, uh, take care of the puppies?” He’s attempting to communicate nonverbally and the sentence he’s attempting to project into Yuta’s mind is: “DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN WITH THESE PEOPLE”.

Yuta is grinning, which clearly means he’s aware of what Jaehyun wants, he’s just going to be a dick about it. “I would, Jaehyun, but you know I can’t. All those puppies. So soft. So gentle. Needing my assistance.”

Jaehyun suppresses a swear and looks back to the beaming Taeyong. God, why is he smiling _so_ much. It was too late now, he’s past the point where he can say ‘oh I misspoke, I just remembered I have a term paper due that week and also that I have a debilitating childhood fear of mountains’. Oh, he’s really fucked up now.

The rest of the meeting is more logistics than anything else - Jungwoo and Taeyong have the most polite argument Jaehyun’s ever heard over whether they should take macaroni with (“I’m concerned that it poses a choking risk.” “I appreciate your concern but I guarantee you I’ve been dating Lucas for long enough that if there’s anything I choke on, it won’t be macaroni.” “Not in front of Chenle!”)

Jaehyun mostly stares at the map. Mirror Lake as he currently knows it is just a patch of murky blue on faded paper, but that’s just the visual representation. It’s an actual place, it’s a real lake and it’s going to be where he’ll be living for the next week with a bunch of absolute nutters. All because Jaehyun’s dick pointed due North and temporarily possessed him.

The thing is, they seem like normal people, just an ordinary group of friends hanging out but then Jaehyun hears Lucas say “wendigos can walk through walls, can’t they?” to which Jungwoo replies with “well, no, they’re not ghosts, babe,” and it just seems a bit much. Just seems a little off.

Because that’s the one thing Jaehyun begins to realize as he listens to their conversation: they all believe what they’re saying. This is not a scam.

“So, do you guys just focus on like. Creatures?” Yuta asks at some point, interrupting the debate of whether or not wendigos would be fooled by laser traps.

“Oh, not at all. We cover a wide range of conspiracies and mysteries,” Taeyong says. “If you aren’t a fan of creatures, don’t be worried. We have a whole set of meetings coming up dealing with the Illuminati next. You’ll never be able to look at the world the same again. The Eye of Providence is watching us on the back of that dollar bill.” Oh joy. Great. Sounds exciting. Jaehyun can’t wait to get into the finer details of why Beyonce’s latest song was devil worshipping.

The meeting dissolves very casually - Chenle mentions he has a class in the next few minutes, and Jungwoo offers to walk him out. Taeyong is already rolling up the map when it occurs to Jaehyun he better get his own bases covered before anything further happens: “Oh, Taeyong, is it possible that you can add me as an official member? For university records?”

Because if he’s getting stuck on this trip, he’s getting that extracurricular credit. He will not suffer in vein, he’s not nice enough to be a martyr.

“Of course!” Taeyong says. “I’ll drop by the library later, and do it there.”

Jaehyun is about to question why the library is necessary for that when Chenle pipes up, leaning in from the doorway: “Wouldn’t it be better to add him after the hike? You know? Just in case he’s not sure.”

“Oh, but I am sure!” Jaehyun says, forcing a grin.

Taeyong hesitates, looking back at Chenle. “He has a point. I have to submit a report after every expedition as well, and I could just add you then, at the end of the letter. Then you’d also be sure you want to join my Society. I know we’re a bit much at times - I won’t blame you if you decide to go elsewhere.”

Wait, no, that puts pressure on Jaehyun to act like one of them for a whole week, no, that won’t do-

“I love conspiracies. I love the paranormal,” Jaehyun exclaims. “Ghosts are my things!”

He’s not prepared for Taeyong’s snort as he packs the map in his briefcase. “God, don’t tell me you believe ghosts are real.”

“Are… are they not?” Jaehyun says, slightly taken aback.

“I mean, you can believe what you want,” Taeyong says, a sneer evident in his voice. “But come on? Really? Ghosts? Let’s all be adults here.”

He throws an apologetic look at Chenle who yells back: “I’m literally nineteen!”

“Go to class, Chenle. I don’t want you to be late,” Taeyong says, and Chenle scowls as he packs up his metal detector and leaves.

Jaehyun isn’t entirely sure when the room cleared or where Yuta went, but he becomes aware very quickly that Taeyong and he are alone in the room. Jaehyun attempts to find joy in this, but his mind is too preoccupied with mourning the loss of a week of his life. He had so many things he wanted to, time he wanted to spend sleeping or masturbating, and now… all of that… gone.

Taeyong, who’s currently slinging his briefcase around his shoulder, pauses. “I’m really glad we got a chance to meet again. I had no idea I’d find my newest member ordering a cafe crema,” he says.

“What?” It takes a moment to remember that cafe crema was Jaehyun’s fake order. “Oh! Right, yes, I’m looking forward to hanging out with you more as well,” he finds himself saying, and it’s _true_ , just perhaps under different circumstances than he imagined. Or wanted. And then, because he doesn’t really want Taeyong to leave, he says: “So, no ghosts?”

“No ghosts,” he says with a smirk. “This expedition isn’t just about wendigos, though. It serves as a nice secluded place from society, free from chemtrails, free from surveillance, free from everything else.”

“Ah. Chemtrails,” Jaehyun nods slowly. “What… what exactly are chemtrails?”

“You see, because of the increases foliage from all the trees in the forest, it’s able to absorb the mind-controlling chemicals released from airplanes much faster than in urban areas. We can use that to our advantage to properly discuss and criticize other aspects of the government indoctrination we are all sadly a part of.”

A nervous laugh bubbles out of Jaehyun. “Wow, uh, you really do go for all the conspiracy theories, don’t you? Chemtrails? Next thing you’ll be telling me is the moon landing was fake.”

To which Taeyong replies: “Bold of you to assume the moon is real.”

◬

“I can’t do this, Yuta. I can’t _do this_ ,” Jaehyun hisses. Spit flies out his mouth and onto the side of the phone, and he hastily pats it down, obscuring the speaker.

“Okay, okay, breathe, breathe. It’s just Monday to Friday. It’s better than class, am I right?” Yuta says, chuckling. “And you get to be in the great outdoors! Get to feel that air in your lungs!”

“There’s air literally everywhere, Yuta, I don’t need to go somewhere special just to breathe. It’s easy for you to say. You aren’t sitting in the _middle fucking seat_.” Jaehyun rubs the bump at the top of his head, a side effect of the intimate contact his forehead had with the roof of the car.

“Aren’t they hearing what you’re saying?”

“Nope. Bathroom break. Took the opportunity to phone you and yell at you while I still have cellphone reception.”

“Do you not need to piss as well, Jaehyun?” Yuta asks. “You know if you don’t do it regularly, you’ll get kidney stones.”

“What makes you think I’m not doing that right now?”

“Honestly I’d say don’t be nasty, but we’re too comfortable with each other that I already know what you sound like when you’re talking while peeing.”

Jaehyun has no comeback to that. He really needs to start putting more boundaries in his life where Yuta is concerned - but also as soon as the Paranormal Society meeting was done, he demanded to see Yuta’s new piercing, so he guesses they’re just stuck in their weird overly personal relationship.

“I’m outside the gas station, now. I would Facetime but the signal’s been dodgy. We’ve been driving for like. Six hours. It’s not going so good.”

“What’s the gas station like?” Yuta asks. “I don’t think I’ve been that side of town before.”

Jaehyun looks around, surveying the petrol pumps and he walks into the store where a bored woman works, currently on her phone. “Like any other I’d guess. Not really interesting. It’s getting colder as we’re getting closer to the mountain.”

“Oh, how spooky. If you get scared, just ask to hold Taeyong’s hand.”

Jaehyun must be truly depraved if the mere thought of holding Taeyong’s hand causes him to grow red. It’s probably a mixture of that thought and the fact that he’s currently staring at the rack of nude magazines. He turns around after noticing the cashier’s eyes on him.  He covers the phone’s mic with his hand. “It’s fine, I’m gay.”

The cashier doesn’t appear to be convinced and grimaces.

“Don’t even mention him to me. It’s so rough in that car,” Jaehyun sighs, returning to his conversation on the phone. “So I found out why Taeyong doesn’t drive.”

“Is it because he’s gay?”

“That would have been an acceptable reason, but no - he _can_ drive, and he’s driven in the past. He just refuses to get his license because then the government will have a registered form of identification for him.”

Yuta pauses. “Ah.”

“Ah indeed. Apparently they got caught last time and only just managed to avoid a massive fine. Jungwoo just smiled at the traffic officer and he let them off with a warning. Though, they might be better off trying that again, Lucas is a fucking insane driver. Red lights? He doesn’t know them.”

Jaehyun picks up a pack of crackers and briefly considers purchasing them before he puts them back down. He wouldn’t put it past Mark to make a joke about it. “Oh, you know what I just remembered? Mark.”

“Mark?” Yuta repeats. “I’ve heard that name before. Who’s Mark… is he that guy who removed his ribs so he could suck his own-”

“No, that’s not Mark, I think you’re thinking of Marilyn Manson,” Jaehyun interjects. “Mark is Taeyong’s younger brother. I didn’t realize there was such blatant nepotism in the Paranormal Society.”

“Oh, is it a dealbreaker for you?”

Jaehyun wonders if pretzels might be a more acceptable snack, one that would avoid the mocking jabs of Mark. Bread is entirely out of the question, and that’s rather unfortunate, because Jaehyun does really crave a cheese sandwich.

“I mean, of course not, but still. I’d just like to point it out. Anyway, I don’t mind that it’s his brother, he’s just…” Jaehyun lowers his voice to a whisper. “He’s really mean to me, Yuta. Like really, really mean. No, don’t you dare laugh, I’m being serious Yuta.”

Yuta, who’s very much laughing, says: “What do you mean? I’m not laughing.”

“Fuck you.”

“What has he said to you?”

“He asked Taeyong if he was so desperate for members that he started recruiting sentient gummy bears.”

“Oh, that must have stung a bit,” Yuta remarks. “Even I’d be offended. Well, not personally, I’m not the one who looks like a sentient gummy bear, but I understand the pain you felt.”

“May have cried a little,” Jaehyun admits, dropping the pretzels off at the cashier, and sliding the phone in the space between his cheek and shoulder. He opens up his wallet and hands the money to the cashier.

“It’s rough, yeah, but come on Jaehyun, you can survive. Isn’t Mark like 12?”

“Mark is a whole twenty year old man who got in the car and put a J Cole CD in and now we’re stuck listening to it on repeat. I’m trying to regain my dignity, but apparently I’ve lost it.”

“Oh, have you lost something?”

The soft voice startles Jaehyun and he jumps back to see Jungwoo waiting in line behind him, carrying two popsicles and a bag of butter popcorn.

“No, I’m just on the phone with Yuta,” Jaehyun says in a rush. “Uh, are we leaving again?”

“We are, I just wanted to pick up something for Lucas. He likes popsicles,” Jungwoo says, waving it in his hand.

Jaehyun nods. “Alright, I’ll just finish up.” He walks a safe distance away from Jungwoo, and speaks back into his phone. “Sorry. I need to go.”

“Yes, I got that much from the conversation. I don’t know what you think you do when you put your hand over the mic but it’s not obscuring your voice. Come on, Jaehyun, it’ll be fine. Just follow their instructions, keep your head down, and have a good time. You have Taeyong there! He’s really hot!”

“Yeah, but Yuta, I really don’t think getting closer to him is a good idea. I mean, I want to, _obviously_ , but…”

“But what? He’s sweet. He tolerates your bread-shaped face. I’d jump at the chance. And again, I must emphasize, he’s really hot.”

“He’s also... “ Jaehyun drops his voice to a whisper, “ _Crazy_.”

“Yeah, alright, true, but at least he isn’t, god forbid, a Libra.”

“Bye Yuta. Go fuck yourself.”

“I will, probably, and I’ll do it to the thought of your misery,” Yuta replies. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Please die.”

Jaehyun clicks off the call and slips his phone back into his pocket.

“Sorry if I’m intruding, but are you and Yuta together?” Jungwoo says, scaring Jaehyun to a degree where he almost drops his phone. He recovers just in time to stop it smashing into the asphalt.

“Oh, god, no, not at all. We’re just… disturbingly close. One time we got locked into a grocery store overnight, and it really bonded us for life,” Jaehyun informs him. “But yeah, entirely platonic.”

“It’s a pity he couldn’t come with. I hope the puppies are doing well,” Jungwoo says wistfully and Jaehyun doesn’t have the heart to tell him the puppies are a lie.

“So, we’re going?”

The answer to Jaehyun’s question comes in the sound of Lucas’s hooting. “Come on guys, hurry it up a little! The wendigos come out at night and we need our traps laid before sunset! Don’t want to get caught in the dark, now do we?”

 

Jaehyun’s day was not turning out to be too good and after the complete lack of genuine sympathy he received from his phone call with Yuta, it became abundantly clear that self-pity would be the only way to manage his feelings. It was a good location for it, staring out at an unforgiving cloudy sky, muttering internally. He couldn’t even entirely blame his bad mood on Yuta, the day had started off rocky when he had to wake up at 4am after receiving an incredibly spicy and sexually charged email from Taeyong: 

 

From: [taeyong.lee0107@unct.ac.com](mailto:taeyong.lee@unct.ac.com)

To: [jaehyun.jung1402@unct.ac.com](mailto:jaehyun.jung1402@unct.ac.com)

**Subject: Paranormal Society Expedition**

Hi Jaehyun :D

Just a friendly reminder to be ready by around 4:30am on Monday morning. The car will be parked outside the main building.

Looking forward to seeing you :D

  * T******



 

            And probably because Taeyong used two different instances of the smiling emoticon (and even if he censored his own name), Jaehyun actually tried to wake up early. He showered and everything, shaved, did his hair, realized his hair looked awful, did it again, contemplated shearing it all off, snuck into Yuta’s room to get the razor, had it plugged in and everything when he got the call that Lucas was downstairs, ready with the car. 

Yuta had expressed his pity, but he didn’t truly understand how uncomfortable the car ride truly was. Lucas is a reckless driver, and no one else seemed to care - although he did observe that Jungwoo was belted into his seat quite tightly. The entire drive Taeyong was recounting a documentary he had recently seen and while Jaehyun had hoped to catch some sleep, it proved difficult when Taeyong stared at the back seats with wide eyes, whispering: “Don’t you get it? Jet fuel can’t melt steel beams.”

“He is right, you know. They can’t,” Jungwoo whispered.

Even if he was, Jaehyun didn’t really think he cared.

And then there was Mark. Jaehyun would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what Taeyong’s family home looked like - the answer was: like any other suburban house. Down to the black fence and the wooden door, when Jaehyun walked up with the others to open the door, he really wasn’t expecting someone like Mark to be standing in the doorway.

“Man, one car? Seriously?” he asked.

“We didn’t need a van this year. There wasn’t a lot of interest in the expedition this year,” Taeyong answered, dumping his bags in the trunk with everything else.

“I wonder why. Could it be that the youth of today doesn’t have the time to justify the seven hour hike followed by the complete lack of cellphone reception, or civilization in general? Fascinating topic, I’ll have to conduct some research on it,” Mark said, taking over the left window seat that Jaehyun had been occupying. “God knows I’ll have the fucking time to, in between all the monster hunting.”

 

Things got progressively worse after that, as Jaehyun realized when Mark said ‘seven hour hike’ he wasn’t exaggerating.

“It’s a gentle slope,” Lucas says as he parks the car.

“A gentle slope?” Jaehyun repeats, staring up at the uncaring face of the mountain. The slope is as gentle as waking up at 4am and then deciding to shave your head - it’s cruel, unnecessary, and you’d be better off not doing it.

“Have a problem with a bit of walking?” Mark asks, clearly committed to goading Jaehyun. “Come on, it’s bracing. There’s nothing like sweating so hard that you feel your body invent new pores.”

Jaehyun gulps, quite content with the amount of pores he already possesses.

The base of the mountain already has that air of escaping civilization - there’s a single structure for park rangers, but no evidence of any person actually present. The parking lot is filled with empty spaces and the mountain seems a colossal lifeless giant, stretching up into the sky. It peaks so high like you could walk straight up and touch the Moon if you walked that far.

Jaehyun has no intention to walk that far. He barely wants to walk as far as he already is required to.

Jaehyun takes an extra long bathroom break, attempting to regain his courage. He quickly loses it after Lucas taps the stall door, saying: “If you’re gonna be a while, that’s fine, but then I need to start walking so I can get the firewood.”

He does wish that there was some sort of ceremony before they start walking, at least a particular event or sentence that Jaehyun can pronounce as the start so that when he ends up dying of dehydration there’s a part his eulogy can proclaim as ‘where it all went wrong’ - but no, they just walked from the bathroom, and didn’t really stop walking, just stepped up into the forest, and the parking lot becomes covered by the mass of trees, and nature surrounds them.

They broke off into two groups: Lucas in front, with Jungwoo and Mark closely following, and while Jaehyun is fairly certain that Taeyong could walk faster if he wanted to, he’s grateful that he chooses to accompany Jaehyun, even at his slower pace. Jaehyun isn’t unfit, but expecting him to walk up a literal mountain might be testing the limits of his own capabilities.

“Seven hours, you say?” Jaehyun says, his teeth clenched. Sweat collects on his forehead, even in the bracing cold. Pine needles have already settled into Jaehyun’s shoes, and the effort required to bend down and pick them out wasn’t worth the strain in his knees.

“Oh, it’s not so bad. It gets better when we’re further up the mountain. Then it’s just trees, just trees and silence. It feels like you can just get lost in them. It’s intoxicating.”

It’s so cute that Taeyong gets ‘intoxicated’ by the sight of trees. For Jaehyun, it takes about two glasses of vodka or three shots of tequila.  He supposes the view is rather nice, all sweeping greenery of trees as the mountain curves upwards, winding on itself. A menacing grey sky veils over them all, and the figures of Mark, Jungwoo and Lucas get smaller and more obscured each step they take closer to the cabin.

“It’s nice to be in nature. There’s not enough green in the world,” Taeyong says thoughtfully.

Jaehyun resists the urge to make a distasteful joke about weed. “I didn’t know you were that into nature.”

“I won’t lie, I enjoy these hikes up almost as much as I enjoy being there,” Taeyong says, smiling slightly. “Do you hike often?”

“I played basketball.”

“That’s really cool! But do you hike?” Taeyong’s eyes are annoyingly wide with interest.

“Not really, I guess. I preferred more… direct physical activities.” Like boning. “It’s not so bad though!” Jaehyun says, ignoring the cramp that spontaneously arrives in his leg.

“Let me know if you need a rest,” Taeyong says kindly. “Mark, can you throw down a water bottle for Jaehyun?”

“I don’t need water,” Jaehyun says, very insincerely, as he very much does want water. Mark, some hundred meters away, is attuned to Taeyong’s voice and turns around. Not bothering to stop his stride, he grabs a bottle out of his bag and throws it straight to Taeyong with the force of a discus.

It’s heading straight towards Taeyong and perhaps in a past life Jaehyun was a bodyguard for some assassinated political figure because in one swift motion, he steps in front of Taeyong, shielding him, and he feels really proud of himself in the moment before the water bottle lands against his arm and he swears so loud the leaves on the trees shake from the sound.

“Mark, that wasn’t very nice,” is all Taeyong says, and Jaehyun can _hear_ the suppressed giggles.

It probably wouldn’t have hurt under normal circumstances, but Mark launched the bottle like he was fucking NASA, and the force of gravity now left Jaehyun with what must certainly be a blossoming bruise on his left bicep. And then he’s immediately distracted from all thoughts of pain when he feels Taeyong’s gentle grip on his arm and looks down at him.

“I’m so sorry, Jaehyun. Are you alright?”

Part of Jaehyun wants to indulge in his own Disney fantasies and say “I am now that you’re here,” but that doesn’t even make sense as Taeyong was there entire time and actually made things worse because now his fingers are pressing right into his bruise - but he also looks _really_ cute.

“Your brother is… quite… quirky,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth. He leans down to pick up the water bottle and he drinks about half the bottle before handing it to Taeyong. “How old is he again? Seventeen?”

“He’s twenty. We’ve got a 4 year age gap.”

Jaehyun would not have guessed that since Mark resembles a very large toddler and also figured no person over the age of eighteen would rap that much Eminem for the entire drive. But Mark also took the opportunity to tell everyone he was well over the legal drinking age the second he walked in the car and polished off a can of beer he brought from the house under Taeyong’s disapproving glare.

“...Oh.”

“He goes to the university near my parents’ house, that big brick one we passed. He’s studying Law, isn’t that so exciting? I’m so proud of him.”

“I… can’t fathom Mark as a lawyer.” Jaehyun rubs the area around his bruise tenderly, trying to judge the extent of the damage without rolling up his sleeve.

“He’s really quite a prodigy.” There’s obvious pride in Taeyong’s voice. Jaehyun wonders if his own parents use a similar tone when talking about him - and then remembers he failed first year Calculus because he couldn’t find a calculator and just didn’t show up to the exam. 

“It’s nice that he’s in your society even though you go to different universities.”

“I’ve shared a lot of my research with Mark whenever we’re at home,” Taeyong says, nodding solemnly. “I should show you my bedroom when we get back, I’ve got some truly insightful documentaries to show you about 9/11.”

The very mention of ‘documentaries’ sets off a twitch in Jaehyun’s eyebrow that he can’t seem to control, and for the sake of preserving the tranquility of the mountains, Jaehyun takes a deep breath. “What do you study?” Jaehyun says, figuring him as some sort of actor. Taeyong would be perfect for movies with the well-meaning moron archetype, which coincidentally, was Jaehyun’s archetype of choice.

“I majored in dance,” Taeyong says, swiftly picking up the pace, “but I’m sort of doing a lot of general classes things at the moment.”

“What’s a general class?”

“Like. Just. Credits. You know. English. Introduction to Classics. Industrial Ecology. Credits.” Taeyong’s pace has outmatched Jaehyun, and he’s forced to start jogging to keep up with him. He does mean to enquire a bit further as to what Taeyong actually does, but the burn in his legs keeps his thoughts laser focused.

“So, are you in vet school with Yuta?” Taeyong asks.

“God no,” Jaehyun says, having been invited to one too many horse surgery demonstrations. “I’m a Maths major.”

“Maths!” Taeyong says, clapping his hands together. “That’s amazing!”

“Uh, not really. It’s just. You know. Numbers.” Honestly,  it was easier than most of the other things listed on the career evaluation he completed in high school. ‘Nurse’ and ‘deep sea diver’ just didn’t really vibe with him.

“Numbers!” Taeyong repeats. “That’s exciting. Is there any news about numbers?”

He’s got to be taking the piss. “Oh yeah, it’s been quite a hectic time,” Jaehyun says. “There was discussions of getting rid of the number two. It was quite rough, but eventually the Elders decided against it.”

Jaehyun’s expecting some sort of reaction: a laugh would be expecting too much, but a polite sniffle would be alright - but when nothing comes, Jaehyun makes the effort to turn and look at Taeyong, who’s looking at him with wide eyes.

“Oh god, that’s so concerning. Mark was born on the 2nd. What would have happened?”

“He’d have had to celebrate his birthday two times on the first, obviously.”

“I didn’t know it was so easy to just get rid of numbers,” Taeyong says, shaking his head in shock. “What about ten? Is that number okay? I have a friend named Ten and it would be horrible if his namesake stopped existing. Is there anyway we can stop that from happening?”

“Uh, I’ll make sure to bring that up in the next annual meeting,” Jaehyun assures, and Taeyong breathes out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to break that kind of bad news to him.”

Jaehyun thinks he’s starting to form an understanding as to why Taeyong believes every insane theory he finds: he’s just really ridiculously gullible. He’s a wonderful, beautiful man and like all wonderful, beautiful man he has a fatal flaw, and that’s he is incredibly gullible.

“Taeyong, are you a… very trusting person?”

“I’d like to think I am. I’ve been told I see the best in everyone,” he says, and his expression _shines_ with interest. God. Fuck him. Fuck him and his ridiculously cute face. Guilt is flooding through Jaehyun’s body and now he’s going to have to admit that there’s no annual meeting of Maths. He can’t let him walk around thinking that numbers are getting rescinded.

“Taeyong, I was joking by the way,” Jaehyun adds. 

Taeyong tilts his head to the side, pausing in his stride. “I felt like you were, but I wasn’t sure. Thank you for telling me, though. Now I don’t need to worry about Ten.” He pauses. “You’d like Ten, he was in this society from the beginning. He once had an experience with extraterrestrials, you know?”

“He did?” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth. Not aliens, please not aliens, anything but aliens…

“So, picture this: it was the week before Christmas, and he’s alone in his bedroom-”

◬

When Jaehyun was twelve, his family took a trip to the mountains. Not camping, god no, Mr and Mrs Jung did not sleep on dirt thank you very much. Rather, they stayed at a nice little cottage in the mountain, all nestled between the forests, like some sort of oasis among the wilderness. Jaehyun remembers this trip as highly formative in his youth.

The walk up that mountain was only about three hours, but at that stage in his life, the only physical activity he had was walking from the TV to the kitchen.  Jaehyun spent the first day at the cottage retired to his bed, exhausted and chugging electrolytes to stop his body’s complaints of dehydration.

The thing about hiking is it’s just meaningless walking with a vague sort of plan. There’s no instant gratification - and there wasn’t that much delayed gratification either. While Jaehyun did appreciate the view that came from staring down from the top of a mountain, he didn’t appreciate that after his Gameboy battery died, he had nothing to do for a week.

And, Jaehyun reflects as a fully fledged adult with no need for a Gameboy, then there was the thing about actually _walking_ as well - it’s boring. It’s really boring. Thoughts are hard to formulate while panting for air, and Jaehyun’s just so _bored_. His lungs burn and from the sun’s descent behind the trees, he must have been walking for about six hours by now. The others have disappeared, Lucas’s voice no longer bouncing off the trees, and there’s an almost eerie silence in the air: because there are no birds. That’s the first thing that’s weird about the forest surrounding Mirror Lake, and no one had given him any indication as to why this is. Any other animals that lurk among the undergrowth aren’t the kind that croak or sing - the only traces they leave is footprints on the path or the stems of grass that are now bent. Jaehyun would admit that particularly as the sun goes down, the woods do get more creepy and the idea of something ominous lurking just out of sight in the trees isn’t entirely unbelievable. But whereas a more cowardly person would conceive this as a place that some childlike boogeyman could live in - Jaehyun would settle for the much more rational possibility of a bear at most. Or an axe murderer. Either or.

“What _was_ that?” Jaehyun gasps at the sound of a twig snapping, and then instantly rebukes himself. The sky is still orange, there is no need to be _quite_ so dramatic, he could still see and he could clearly see it was Taeyong’s misstep that caused the breakage.

“That was me, sorry,” Taeyong apologizes. “It’s getting dark. You better stay close to me, we don’t know what’s in these woods.”

“Wendigos,” Jaehyun says, leaving off the ‘allegedly’ he’d like to add at the end.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” Taeyong proclaims, standing up straighter and it’s making Jaehyun a little pleased at the thought that this small man is going to defend Jaehyun from the danger of these apparent cannibalistic zombies.

“Oh, will you now?” Jaehyun says, bumping into Taeyong’s arm, grinning at him. “I’ve got an expert watching over me.”

Taeyong looks up at him through his fluttering eyelashes - his eyes are just so _big_ and round, it’s feeling like staring off the side of a cliff. “It’s my duty as President.”

“You’re so noble. I feel so protected having you near me.” They’re walking closer now, and it’s almost thrilling to think that Taeyong considers himself responsible to keeping Jaehyun from harm. He’s considering slotting his arm in the space between Taeyong’s torso but doubts himself, wondering if it’s perhaps coming on too strong. The last thing Jaehyun needs is to accidentally end up _starting_ something with Taeyong when he is, like, confirmed crazy. 

“Stay close.”

“I can get closer,” Jaehyun says - pausing, waiting for Taeyong’s reaction, blood swirling in his head. This is just casual flirting, it doesn’t actually _mean_ anything, it’s just something to pass the boredom that comes with doing nothing but walking in a single direction for hours, he can totally justify this-

Taeyong links his arm with Jaehyun’s. “There we go.”

 The physical contact is… nice, he’s sort of forced to admit that. He does feel, like, 2% more protected, because even if Taeyong doesn’t seem particularly handy in a fight, he’s at least familiar with the terrain and knows the direction they’re supposed to be going. And, well, it’s sort of got Jaehyun feeling some kind of way inside, having their arms linked. Jaehyun temporarily forgets how much his legs hurt and that dumb bruise and how tired he is, and devotes all his attention to walking in synchronization and the feel of Taeyong against him.

It’s a beautiful moment, really. The fading sunset bathes the forest in a gentle honey glow, and Taeyong walks slowly, guiding Jaehyun carefully, never letting his grip leave his. There’s no one else around, no one at all, the others long since having disappeared further up ahead, and the privacy of having this moment all to himself is an enticing idea. There’s a certain atmosphere that lingers as a result of the tension in the air between them.

“To be entirely honest, there’s not much I could do if a wendigo did attack, you know? I mentioned they’re about double our height, but did I tell you they can move extremely fast? Their claws are adapted for effectively for tearing apart flesh and bone.” 

Jaehyun feels his flirting boner deflate under the threat of a brutal and gory dismemberment.

“Ah…” Jaehyun takes a step back, disentangling himself from Taeyong. The moment’s passed, ruined in favour of his ramblings about mystical zombies. “Have we still got much to go?”

“We’re close to the house, about twenty more minutes,” Taeyong says, looking up at the path thoughtfully. “But… I should probably run through some tips if something goes wrong and I’m not with you anymore.”

Jaehyun is highly uncomfortable with the notion that he’d ever be alone in the woods considering he didn’t even go grocery shopping alone - he made Yuta leave work early on a Sunday just so they could go together and avoid a case of Jaehyun staring gormlessly at the different types of tomatoes.

“Wherever there have been reported cases, there’s always been descriptions of the smell of ozone,” Taeyong says, reciting from memory.

“What the fuck does ozone smell like?” Jaehyun asks.

“Like… like the smell of the ground after it rains. That sharp scent that fills the air. Like that, you know?”

Taeyong clearly has a hidden poetic side to him that overshadowed any actual description he could give. “Alright, fine, so the ground smells weird. What else?”

“Whistling. Be careful of whistling.”

“Would a wendigo be offended if I’m off-key?” Showchoir Society had _nothing_ on them.

“No, not you whistling. If you _hear_ whistling, you should run away as fast as you can. That’s a sign that a wendigo is literally _right_ next to you. If you hear whistling… it’s not looking good,” Taeyong’s arms are crossed, rubbing up and down. “Just, don’t go out alone. The woods are dangerous - but at least the dangers here are in front of you.”

“As opposed to…?”

“As opposed to when they’re hidden by layers of government indoctrination and propaganda. I hope you haven’t brought your phone, by the way, because we can’t allow any location tracking services here. They’re just waiting for the chance to take me and my society out,” Taeyong nods grimly.

Jaehyun’s phone burns in his back pocket, and he unconsciously tugs his shirt down further. He wonders if he is now considered part of the Paranormal Society, and then wonders if it really would be so awful to get taken out by a government sniper. It’ll be quick and clean, unlike his possible decapitation by zombie cannibal. And then, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to keep hiking up this fucking mountain.

◬

 “Oh, look, I’m not an only child after all,” Mark replies, sitting on the front porch. He’s got Jungwoo with him and they appear to be watching Lucas collect firewood in lieu of actually helping him. “Nice of you two to stop by.”

“Did you get lost?” Jungwoo asks, standing up to take their bags from them. Jaehyun pretty much falls over at the sudden loss of weight, and recovers by leaning against the wooden supporting beams.

“No, I’m just… not a big walker,” Jaehyun answers. “Taeyong was kind enough to make sure I didn’t get lost.” He sounds horribly out of breath and Jungwoo diplomatically doesn’t mention it.

“Well, you made it. Welcome to the Fuck House,” Mark says, gesturing towards the cabin. “That’s a noun, not a verb, please don't fuck in here.” 

“It’s not called that,” Taeyong corrects, walking up to the door and unlocking it. “It doesn’t really have a name. It’s just a normal cabin.”

“I will literally get the paperwork from the local government offices to prove to you that it’s called the Fuck House,” Mark says. “I filed that permit myself, I’m telling you this it’s what it’s legally called.”

The Fuck House, the cabin, or whatever it’s called, is probably the most generic cabin ever. It’s a double story - old panelled wooden walls, screened windows that have dirt caked on them and two half broken chairs on the outside deck.  Jaehyun looks at it and is almost certain he’s seen this exact house in some horror flick where teenagers get massacred in the woods.

It’s in this happy thought that he regains some of his energy and walks inside, and instantly coughs at the dust that flutters down from the doorframe as he opens it wider.

“I hope you’re not asthmatic,” Taeyong says quickly. “There may be some dust.”

‘Some dust’ is how Jaehyun would describe the state of his Trigonometry textbook. The interior of the cabin is so thoroughly coated in dust, it’s as if the furniture was given a blanket. Jaehyun takes a few steps closer, and moths fly out from the corner of the fireplace.

“Oh!” Jungwoo squeaks, swatting his hands in the air. “I forgot about all the insects.”

“I think I’ve got the bug spray in my bag,” Mark says, prodding one of the couches with his feet. “Damn, did the fish people even stay here this year? This is more dust than usual.”

“Fish people?” Jaehyun asks, fearing the Paranormal Society’s jurisdiction might extend to mermaids.

“The people from the aquaculture department who come here to do studies on the lake,” Jungwoo elaborates, unzipping his backpack and taking out several cloths and furniture spray. “They usually come around in early July but not this year apparently. They clean up the place really nicely before we get here - guess we’re doing this ourselves.”

“Like right now?”

“We can’t be in this house when it’s this filthy. You’ll get sick.” Jungwoo’s tone is decisive. Jaehyun stares as Jungwoo places the spray bottle in his hand. “Do you want to start in the bedroom?”

“Uh.” He’d honestly been planning a shower, and then putting his feet up. Perhaps compose a text to Yuta outlining his personal failings as a person for not sorting out his extracurriculars earlier, and thus stopping himself from ending up in this mess. “I mean-”

Jungwoo was unwavering. “Yes?”

“Nevermind,” Jaehyun says. “Which direction are the rooms?”

Jungwoo smiles. “There’s two downstairs and one upstairs. Make sure to air out the sheets and open the windows. If you need anything, let me know!”

 

Dust finds a home in the confines of Jaehyun’s nostrils and every time he sneezes for the rest of the day, there’s bits of sawdust that fly out of his nose. Undoubtedly there’s a very obvious ownership of the rooms judging by the items left in them  - there’s a giant poster of a werewolf in what he assumes to be Jungwoo’s and Lucas’s room, as well as an equally big half-emptied bottle of raspberry lube.

Taeyong’s room seemed to be the one with the smallest window but the largest amount of objectively strange equipment including a bear trap, several coils of wire and three separate copies of The Da Vinci Code, all neatly packed on the bedside table. Jaehyun suspects that Mark might sleep here as well, judging from the manner in which the room appears to be almost _perfectly_ split in half, not a single fragment of Taeyong’s belongings touching the halfway mark. 

And there’s the two rooms upstairs - one that Jaehyun discovers accidentally, having nearly broken the door down. It’s like a wall-to-wall torture chamber, nothing but steel traps and ropes. Next to the literal hand guillotine is a structure of iron that seems like a literal coffin, and Jaehyun closes the door and figures he’ll just take his chances with Jungwoo not checking if he cleaned that room.

The last room is the most unkempt, the one with spiderwebs on the door handle before he even opens the room. It’s in a way that seems almost sad - mismatched socks, books of various genres, make-up and trainers - many different people seem to have used this room at some point, and clearly none of them are here now. It does sort of keep in line with what Taeyong had suggested, that this year’s expedition to Mirror Lake was significantly smaller than before - but Jaehyun could hardly even fathom why anyone would willingly want to come up to the middle of nowhere to hunt wendigos.

Jaehyun can reasonably assume he’s being boarded up here. Even if he isn’t, he’s currently lying on the bed now, staring at the ceiling, trying to get the feeling back to his legs, trying to scroll through Instagram in his mind.

“Hey man! Everything fine up here?” Lucas asks, barrelling through the door and then leaning against the wood.

“Yeah! Just lying down, it’s been quite a hectic day,” Jaehyun replies, not moving from his spot on the bed. “I never realized a seven hour hike actually meant walking for the whole seven hours.”

“Aw, come on man, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It really was. I’m not much of a… endurance kind of guy.”

Lucas leans against the doorframe and shrugs. “Look, the walk is just the start of it man. You’re gonna lose it when you see the Lake. It’s like, beautiful.”

“Does anything live in the lake?” Jaehyun says, more out of his own amusement than genuine interest.

“Damn, I hope not, I’ve been swimming in it for a few years now. As far as I know, the only activity worth monitoring in the woods are the wendigos - but I wouldn’t cross out the possibility of anything paranormal that might live there. Gotta keep an open mind, man. Taeyong always tells me: if it’s possible, it’s possible.”

It’s a shitty motto. “You’ve come here multiple years?”

“Yup. This is my third year!”

“Have you ever actually found any evidence?”

“Nah, but these things take time, you know? Science doesn’t happen in a day!”

There’s literally nothing scientific about anything they do and Jaehyun’s hand curls into a fist before he gives up and figures there’s no point arguing Day 1 into the trip. “So, you just take a break from university for a week to come up here and… monitor?”

“It’s really serious business. We’ve got a fuck load of camera equipment and we know how to use it,” Lucas says. Anyone who has to clarify that they know how to ‘use it’ leads Jaehyun to question their capability. “I was at high school with Mark and I joined the Society in my final year, and like… you know… Taeyong’s like, my role model.”

“Your role model?”

Lucas’s eyes are glossy. “He’s amazing, Jaehyun. Our President is like so wise and intelligent but he’s so reserved, you know? And he’s got no fear, he knows that the government could come after him at any time but he’s just unafraid. His perseverance? Unmatched. I’m not ashamed to say I went to UNCT because of him.”

If Jaehyun hadn’t already seen Jungwoo and Lucas grossly makeout in the gas station bathroom at one of their stops, he’d feel like his own ‘relationship’ with Taeyong was being propositioned by his Vice President. The level of devotion which Lucas openly held towards Taeyong erred on the site of terrifying but was undeniably flattering. “That’s… well, isn’t it good that you’re his Vice President, then?”

“We’ve had a little bit of an issue with membership, I won’t lie, so I’m so glad to hear about you and Yuta,” Lucas grins. “We can make do with just me and Taeyong by the fireplace talking about the Illuminati to be honest, but you know, it’s more fun when there’s a big group. And when it comes to the equipment, we need help when setting up.” He claps his hands together in front of him, eyes lighting up with a memory. “That reminds me, actually, I came here to let you know about that. You need to get up. We’re going to set up traps now!”

And Jaehyun figures it's some kind of joke, perhaps a reference to trap music but he should have known since he opened that torture-cum-sex-dungeon that there was no joking. That everything about these people was 100% sincere, even at the cost of their own sanity. 

 

The blood from Jaehyun's fingers stain the plaster wrapped around his digits and he doesn't even notice until Taeyong calls him into his room. At first Jaehyun doesn’t really want to leave the self-pity hollow he’s made for himself on the couch, but Jungwoo stares at him pointedly till he leaves - and Jaehyun supposes that any further blood loss might affect his protein intake, so he begrudgingly gets to his feet.

“If I could give some advice, in future you probably shouldn't put your fingers between the jaws of a bear trap,” Taeyong chides gently, rummaging through his backpack and unearthing a fully stocked, medical-grade First Aid Kit. It takes him a while before he manages to find it - he nearly unpacks everything out, and Jaehyun is intrigued to discover that Taeyong apparently brought a whole pharmacy with, little bottles and ointments plucked out from his backpack and placed upon his sheets. 

“I didn’t think it would snap close!” Jaehyun protests, but reluctantly uncurls his fist, peeling away the plaster, cringing at the sight of his lacerated fingers. “No one told me it was active.”

“I am terribly sorry about that Jaehyun. I was almost certain that Mark would have mentioned it but it must have slipped his mind unintentionally,” Taeyong says in an overly soothing voice. The infantilization doesn’t agree with Jaehyun but perhaps he’s more childlike than he believes because it does make him feel a little better. Sympathy is a powerful drug.

“Is Mark trying to kill me?” Jaehyun asks. It may be dramatic but it’s also the second time in a day that he’s been injured as a result of his actions, and they only met at noon.

“He’s just a little fiery,” Taeyong says, as if that’s some kind of explanation.

“So, he _is_ trying to kill me?”

“I don’t think he is, but I also wouldn’t sleep too comfortable.”

Discarding the bloodied plasters in the empty trashcan, Jaehyun holds out his fingers to Taeyong and he expects him to be cold and clinical in the way he applies the clean bandaid - much in the way Jungwoo was when he put the original ones on.  

Instead, Taeyong takes Jaehyun’s hands in his own, cradling them, carefully wrapping the poor ruins of his fingers tightly, Taeyong’s body heat transferring to his own, leaving his fingers warm and tingly and not on account of the blood flowing out.

“Is that better?” Taeyong asks. “I’d give you some pain medication but you shouldn’t have that on an empty stomach.”

“It’s fine, it’s not really sore,” Jaehyun bluffs, abundantly aware Taeyong hasn’t let go of his hand yet. It is actually _really_ sore and the pressure that Taeyong is applying isn’t exactly easing the pain, but Jaehyun would rather put the rest of his fingers through the bear trap than tell him to stop. “I’ll be okay. I mean, though, if _you_ do _have_ painkillers, hypothetically, that might be nice.”

“It’s no problem at all. There’s been a fair bit of accidents here, I’m sure you can imagine, splinters, bruises, second degree burns because Mark’s hair got too close to the firepit, stuff like that. I’m always prepared,” Taeyong says, tapping his backpack. “I’ll get started with dinner after I’m finished here.”

“You cook?”

“I sort of have to. Who else will feed them?” Taeyong says, tilting his head to the side.

Oh no. Oh no, he’s really cute. Oh no, he actually cooks. Jaehyun has a flashback of sitting in bed with Yuta some months ago after marathoning Cutthroat Kitchen, informing him he needs to date someone who can cook so Jaehyun can have something green in his diet that isn’t gummy bears or weed.

“I’m happy to help if you need,” Jaehyun offers, perhaps starstruck by his domestic visions.

“I don’t think you can,” Taeyong says, tapping Jaehyun’s hand as he finally releases him from his grasp. “But I’ll appreciate the company nonetheless.”

 

“I don’t see why I have to cut the carrots,” Mark says over the sound of the knife clattering down on the countertop. “I don’t fucking eat vegetables.”

“Yes you do, and yes you will,” Taeyong replies, not looking up from the pot bubbling on the gas stove. It bubbles menacingly, and he swirls the ladle unaffected.

Mark mumbles something in response that sounds like a meaningless string of profanity but he has no further objections. Jaehyun doesn’t have any siblings, and he doesn’t think he’d want any either - too much competition for resources at Christmas time - but it’s nonetheless fascinating to observe their relationship up close.

“Jaehyun, do you like soup?” Taeyong asks, sprinkling salt in the pot. It’s unsteady on the creaky gas stove, and Taeyong keeps one hand balancing it the entire time to prevent it from splashing across the floor.

“It’s pretty good, I guess. I’m more of a breakfast food kinda guy, to be honest.”

“I can see that,” Mark notes, “You sort of look like a pancake.”

“Will you stop comparing me to food? I actually really like pancakes,” Jaehyun says. He then immediately regrets saying so because Mark’s eyes widen with the discovery of a new weakness.

“Mark, be nice,” Taeyong sighs.

Mark slams the knife down with more force than necessary on the poor carrot in waiting, splitting it in uneven halves, grinning widely. “How’s your fingers?”

Jaehyun would have shown the middle finger, if his entire set of digits weren’t been banded together. “They’re doing great.”

“You really should have been a little smarter. What were you even thinking, shoving your whole hand in it?”

“I didn’t know the trap was active!” Jaehyun defends.

“Oh come on, it clearly was. Do you stick your hand in everything? Are you like one of those bears that get their paws stuck in beehives?”

“Winnie the Pooh is a legend, you take that back-”

Taeyong slams the pot of soup down on the countertop with more force than necessary, the broth sloshing against the sides. “Thank you for your help, Mark. Those carrots look great.”

“Oh, good, can I go now?” Mark says, tossing the knife into the sink with little regard for safety. No wonder Taeyong brings a fully stocked pharmacy. “Lucas says he saw a hornet’s nest on the way up and I’m super keen to check it out.”

“Can you get me the record player first, though?” Taeyong calls, causing Mark to stop his departure halfway through. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve arrived till I play Abbey Road while cooking you guys lunch.”

It’s like a switch flicks in Jaehyun’s head. He instantly straightens, resting his head on his hands. “You like the Beatles?”

Taeyong looks up, as if surprised that Jaehyun’s speaking. “I do. It’s a beautiful album, isn’t it? A seminal classic.”

“I… I agree,” Jaehyun murmurs, staring in disbelief. “I completely agree, it’s one of the finest collection of music ever assembled, it has my all-time favourite song on it, I… am surprised to hear you like them too.”

Jaehyun, a devoted Beatles fan, had long since held an admiration for the four, and took every opportunity to play their music at parties whenever the residing DJ became too drunk to use their playlist any longer.

“If that’s what music sounded like in the sixties I’m glad I wasn’t alive,” Mark says, scrunching his nose in distaste. Jaehyun figures he was glad Mark wasn’t alive back then either, he would have just caused milk to grow sour and crops to be ruined. Mark deposits the record player on the kitchen table along with a dusty crate housing several vinyls, and Jaehyun has to control his own classic rock boner from emerging.

“I love the Beatles. I can’t believe you own vinyls, that’s… amazing.” His voice sounds sort of like he’s about to cry. But only a little. Jaehyun pulls the box closer, digging in, savouring the sensation of the vinyl on his skin.

“It’s the only way I listen to music, I have my own player at home as well. My brother tried to get me onto Apple Music but do you know the kind of evil things the terms and conditions of iTunes makes you agree to? You literally give them the authority to turn you into a sleeper agent. I can’t risk it,” Taeyong says. He puts the soup back on the gas stove and with swift fingers, unpacks one of the records and stacks it on the player. “I’ve got all the classics, but I always think that my heart belongs to the Beatles. I feel like they’re just so timeless.”

Taeyong pauses, gazing into the soup and then back at Jaehyun. “It probably sounds silly, but if I had a time machine, I think I’d go back and watch one of their concerts.” His voice takes on a hesitant tone.

Jaehyun’s glad he can pretend to be interested in the back of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band cover, because he’s quite sure if he makes eye contact with Taeyong, he’ll just get down on one knee and propose marriage then and there. True, he did just imply Apple is churning out sleeper agents, but they had the same favourite band, his dream was to watch one of their concerts, he’s absolutely perfect, he’s a beautiful man with excellent taste and he can cook, so what if he was a little quirky and thought some odd things, it’ll be fine, they can play Here Comes the Sun at their wedding-

A disgusting warbling floods the room as the record begins to turn and it’s like the temperature drops in the whole room as he stares at Taeyong in disbelief. It’s a horrible sound, impossible to be made by the generation-defining group themselves.

“Is your record player broken?”

“Oh not at all, that’s intentional. I’m playing it backwards, I hope you don’t mind,” Taeyong says, smiling placidly. “I’m just very interested in Paul’s death at the moment so I’m listening to some of their old tracks.”

“Paul’s dead?” Jaehyun repeats, rushing to his feet. “What the fuck, he was fine a few hours ago, surely it would have made news-” Mentally, he’s calculating how fast and how far he’d have to run down the mountain to get cellphone reception. His second favourite Beatle, taken before his time, oh God, he’d never even seen him live…

“Jaehyun, wait!” Taeyong calls and it’s the only thing that stops him from running out the kitchen to the front door. Jaehyun spins around, staring. “Jaehyun… this didn’t happen recently. I’m referring to, of course, what happened in 1966.”

“What the fuck happened in 1966?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer. He merely adjusts the record player, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he turns up the volume of the awful indistinct warbling and looks to Jaehyun. “Now, as we know, the Beatles often employed the technique of backmasking in order to hide secret messages in their music, particularly regarding the truth about dear Paul’s death. if you listen closely near the end, there’s a clue. It’s hidden, of course, but when played backwards John says ‘I buried Paul’.” He pauses, and allows a section of ‘music’ to play. It’s meaningless noise. “There! Do you hear it?”

Jaehyun stares.

“Sorry, am I not clear?” Taeyong tilts his head to the side. “Okay, well, see in 1966, Paul McCartney tragically died in a car crash, and the remaining Beatles were overcome with grief. For the sake of the band, they replaced him with an exact clone - and that’s the man that’s masquerading around under Paul’s name today.” Taeyong is _grinning_. “Makes sense, doesn’t it? Like have you looked at the cover of Abbey Road and how they each represent a member of a funeral procession? The guilt was overtaking them which was why they’ve cleverly placed their clues in some of their songs. It all connects, you’ll be blown away-”

“Taeyong. Sir James Paul McCartney isn’t dead,” is all Jaehyun can manage to say without strangling him.

Taeyong’s face grows sympathetic. “I know. His music will remain with us forever, I really feel the same.” He turns around, checking the lever of the gas tank, and resumes stirring the soup, and the aroma does nothing to quell the current fire raging inside of Jaehyun.

“Taeyong. He isn’t dead.”

“Did I not explain properly? I know it can be a bit of a shock, but if you look at the evidence-”

“The _evidence_? The evidence was that you misused a fucking record player. Sir Paul McCartney did not die in 1966, and he did not get replaced by a goddamn clone.” And as afterthought, Jaehyun adds: “And for fucks sake, that doesn’t sound like ‘I buried Paul’ at _all_.”

Taeyong’s cheeks blew out, reddening. “There are other examples. This has a lot of evidence behind it. Are you really a fan - like, have you listened to any of their other tracks backmasked?”

“No! I haven’t! Because you don’t listen to music like that! No one does!” Jaehyun steps back, but his volume increases, attempting to be heard over the wailing from the record player. “Taeyong, this is insane!”

  Lucas’s head peaks in from the door. “Everything alright here? I heard some restrained yelling and this time Mark isn’t involved.”

Jaehyun spins around, glaring at him. “Everything’s fine.”

Lucas frowns. “Are you sure? You guys are shouting so loud I can’t even hear the Metallica song you’re playing.”

“It’s not Metall-” Jaehyun breaks off. “Forget it. Fucking _forget_ it. I can’t do this.”

Frankly, Metallica _wishes_ it could sound this good when played backward.

◬

It’s that time of the year where sunlight is kept in an airtight jar and shoved to the back of the cupboard where all other things are forgotten. It’s like there’s never been a day that wasn’t gloomy. Mirror Lake has a chill that permeates through the wooden walls and up the stairs and personally knocks on Jaehyun’s room door and asks to be let in. Overcast clouds are the only reason Jaehyun can even see the lake, the light reflecting onto the water - and what he sees keeps him up at midnight when he stares out his room window..

Fog steps out over the water like a marching army, obscuring the smothers of trees in the surroundings and it seems as if the lake goes on indefinitely, a ghostly patch of skin on the forests of the mountain. The fog arrives after sunset and it lingers, settling down but with a tendency to creep closer and closer to the surface. It’s almost effervescent, like any moment now the fog will recede and take the lake with it, leaving nothing but a crater in its wake.

And the cold really is _everywhere_ , and as much as Jaehyun would like to pretend he’s above being affected by it, there’s sort of an aura surrounding this kind of weather, and maybe, just out of the corner of the fog on a dark night, you could fool yourself into seeing things that aren’t there.

It’s still no excuse. Just turn the heating up and stop looking at the stupid lake, then you won’t think there’s wendigos running around.

Jaehyun is cocooned in his sheets, having inaccurately predicted the kind of weather he was expecting on this mountain. The sunrise was disappointing enough, a brief splash of yellow and orange that shrunk away by the time Jaehyun had rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He shivers against the sheets, and he even went and put on a _shirt_ , and if that’s not a sign that he’s truly suffering from the cold, nothing is.

There’s a gentle knock on the door and Jaehyun stares, sitting up in his bed. He’s been awake for hours, just shivering against his sheets.

“Uh, come in?”

Taeyong steps into the room, obscured by the tower of blankets he carries with him, recognizable only by his slender hands. He carefully places the colourful but woefully mismatched blankets at the foot of Jaehyun’s bed and straightens himself out, avoiding direct eye contact with Jaehyun until the last possible moment.

“I realized belatedly that we didn’t put enough blankets in this room,” he says, “I was worried you might be cold. So I brought you some more.”

‘More’ translates to ten. He’s brought ten blankets. Jaehyun counts them at the foot of his bed, and then stares at Taeyong, who’s taken overcompensation to new heights.

“That’s a bit much,” Jaehyun says. “But thanks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Taeyong buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I just know you’re a bit upset at me at the moment, and I would prefer if you weren’t. I’m very sorry Jaehyun, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just glad you’re here.”

While it is true in some definition of the word that they were fighting, as evidenced by the extremely awkward dinner held last night where Lucas single handedly spoke about his favourite ice hockey team for twenty minutes to break the tension, Jaehyun found it difficult to accept an apology. Partly because Taeyong doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, and partly because really, it’s Paul McCartney who deserves the apology.

“One of the core tenets that the Paranormal Society was founded on was that we do not force our beliefs on anyone. And if I did, I am sorry,” Taeyong continues. “And I would be sad if the enjoyment of our expedition was compromised because of my own foolishness.”

He’s so fucking _cute_. Jaehyun keeps thinking he’s getting acclimated to the particular brand of adorable that Taeyong radiates but then he does something like right now, where he pulls down his sleeve when he’s nervous. Jaehyun forces himself not to do something stupid like ask him how he likes his eggs and whether he’d be interested in moving into a house in the suburbs and adopting three Golden Retrievers.

“Taeyong, it’s fine, really, I knew what I was expecting when I joined this society,” Jaehyun says, inhaling deeply. “I can’t be too surprised.”

Taeyong leans against the wall, legs crossed, trying to appear casual but is betrayed by the tension in which he holds his shoulder. “You joined because of the extracurricular requirement, didn’t you?”

Jaehyun contemplates lying, and then decides he doesn’t care. They’re not going to throw him off the mountain. And if they do, well, win for him, he doesn’t need to be here anymore. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Taeyong nods. “I sort of expected as much. I didn’t really think someone like you would be interested in my Society.” 

The way he says it stabs a knife right in Jaehyun’s heart. The sheer guilt he feels is heavier than all ten of the blankets. Taeyong looks so _sad_ , and well, he’s right, Jaehyun the skeptic who likes long walks on the beach and cheese sandwiches - not hunting wendigos.

“Do you mind?” Jaehyun asks cautiously. “I’m not here just to waste space, like I’ll help and do everything that you ask-”

“Of course not. I told you from the beginning, I’m glad you’re here.” Taeyong moves a step closer, almost as if he wants to initiate some sort of physical contact and even though Jaehyun’s forbidding himself from even _thinking_ about touching Taeyong, it’s not technically a problem if Taeyong does it first.

But then Taeyong’s eyes widen and he says: “Oh. I think I left the gas on.”

And he disappears, nearly running out of the room, and if he was a cartoon there’d be a stereotypical cloud of dust in the vacancy he left. It would be alarming if Jaehyun wasn’t there for dinner last night, and saw Taeyong get up to check if there was a gas leak on four separate occasions.

“He’s a little neurotic at times,” Jungwoo had said kindly, unaware of the mustache of soup above his upper lip.

And Jaehyun just added it to his hypothetical list of reasons as to why he needs to stop lusting after Taeyong. It’s just ridiculous. Sure, Taeyong is really sweet and cute and brought him ten blankets and apologized for hurting his feelings - but that doesn’t change that he’s a fruit loop. It would never work out.

And besides, Jaehyun’s just here for the week. As soon as his membership gets confirmed, he never needs to see the Paranormal Society again, and he can put all of this behind him, and he won’t ever need to see Taeyong again.

Jaehyun ignores the weird emptiness in his heart by grabbing one of the blankets, curling up in it. He distantly hears voices from downstairs ask about breakfast and it’s soothing in the white noise kind of way, and he’s almost drifting back to sleep when his door slams open.

“Wake up. Taeyong wants you there for breakfast, apparently.”

It’s Mark, obviously, no one else has a voice that sounds simultaneously degrading and excited at the same time.

“Don’t make groaning noises at me,” Mark chides. “Taeyong was _going_ to make hash browns but apparently he’s making pancakes now. I guess your ass convinced him to, I can see the physical resemblance. So thanks I guess, now we’ve all got to suffer.”

Oh. Jaehyun’s domestic fantasy he confessed to Yuta become so real it’s a physical weight.

“Alright, stop looking so moony-eyed, it’s fucking pancakes, he didn’t ask your dad for your damn hand in marriage. God, I fucking hate all my brother’s friends, they’re all so _weird_.”

◬

It is difficult to stay mad at Taeyong. It’s even more difficult trying to keep a distance from him. The initial problem was that the cabin really wasn’t _that_ big and the cold kept everyone inside. It was impossible not to run into someone in every room. While Jungwoo and Lucas could generally be relied on to be in their room, Mark took residence in the lounge, reading back issues of MAD Magazine from a seemingly infinite supply he brought with him.

And Taeyong, just seemed to appear whenever Jaehyun was. It was probably most likely coincidence - Jaehyun didn’t think Taeyong was _that_ interested in his biceps to actively force contact, but it still led Jaehyun’s own self-control to be tested.

Because, as Jaehyun kept noticing, Taeyong was really, really, _really_ ridiculously cute from the way he curled up in a blanket as he read magazines with Mark to the determined glint he held in his eye as he spoke to Lucas about the android epidemic affecting the world.

And Jaehyun sort of ended up as his cooking companion. It really wasn’t intentional, he just always ended up the kitchen when Taeyong fired up the gas stove and by then he couldn’t really _leave_. That would be impolite, and Jaehyun was raised as good church boy.

Over a pot of bubbling pasta, Jaehyun finds out that Taeyong started cooking before he went to university, used to experiment on dishes and have Mark try them. Finds out they share the same favourite colour (sky blue), and finds out they both have a fondness for Pepsi over Coke. 

“It just tastes better,” Taeyong says, pausing to check if the gas is closed. He drains the pasta in the sink using a plate (and rightfully so) because  a colander wouldn’t fit in his hiking bag. 

“I’ve really come to enjoy vodka with Pepsi,” Jaehyun says. “It’s mine and Yuta’s drink of choice. Well, it’s mine, I think Yuta just drinks it because I pay. He’s sort of awful like that, but I can never say that to anyone because they’ll say ‘oh but he’s such a nice man, he cures sick animals and smiles all the time’. He’s actually really awful, do you know once he literally pretended to die rather than come to a presentation I had to do at some Maths exhibition- Taeyong, are you listening to me?”

Taeyong startles, turning around. He’s been staring at the stove for about two minutes now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I was…”

“What are you so worried about? I always see you checking the gas.” Jaehyun is cautious about asking, but he’s not sure he can deal with his own curiosity.

“I just… I get so worried about the gas. I’ve read so many incidents of gas leaks used as a tactic by government agents to dispose of witnesses and I’m just… a little paranoid, I guess.”

Jaehyun can’t even summon the strength to make a derisive comment, not when Taeyong looks genuinely worried, turning around to tap his hand against the handle of the gas tank. Jaehyun sighs, standing to his feet.

“Okay. Fine. Compromise?” Jaehyun says, bending in front of the gas tank. Carefully, he twists the lever and pulls off the retractable handle off the valve. “There.”

“Did you just break our only source of power?” Taeyong blanches.

“No, I just removed the handle. Now you physically _cannot_ leave the gas on, no one can. It’s all locked up. Like…” Jaehyun pauses, trying to find a suitable comparison. “I don’t know, the cryogenically frozen head of Walt Disney? Does that make sense?”

It seems to click in Taeyong’s head now. Jaehyun drops the handle in his outstretched hand and he holds it up to the light as if to check if it’s real.

“You don’t have to worry,” Jaehyun says, putting effort into keeping his tone more considerate. “I’m sorry if I seemed like I didn’t understand it. I can get why you’re sort of paranoid. But, this way you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh Jaehyun…” Taeyong trails off.

“I can put it back if you want, it’s super easy-” He never quite gets the rest of his sentence out because Taeyong puts his hands behind his back, leans on his tiptoes and pecks him on the lips and Jaehyun’s eyes widen considerably.

It’s about one second of actual kiss, and would pass by in even the most PG of children’s movies, but Taeyong breaks from it, blushing furiously red. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t quite mean to do that.” He pauses. “I did. But not quite now. In the kitchen. The kitchen’s not very romantic.”

For all Jaehyun cares, the kitchen of the Fuck House could be Paris in moonlight, and he reaches forward and pulls Taeyong closer to him, cupping his face in his hands, kissing him properly, the way he deserves: tenderly, languidly and with his thumbs tracing Taeyong’s razor-edged cheekbones. 

There’s a squeak of surprise followed by arms twining themselves around Jaehyun’s neck, pulling him further down. Jaehyun hadn’t intended to proceed further than just a kiss but Taeyong’s mouth is hot and inviting and Jaehyun slips his tongue over the top of Taeyong’s teeth and the resounding noise he gets in response is more than a little encouraging.

He’s careless, messy even, desperate in the way he urges himself into Jaehyun’s mouth and Jaehyun complies, tilting himself closer. It’s an honour, really, Taeyong is probably an oil painting come to life, on the run from the art gallery, and getting to stick his tongue in it, while probably a federal crime, is super hot.

Jaehyun’s hands find their way into Taeyong’s hair and he gives an experimental tug, and Taeyong throws his head back, exposing the column of his neck, which Jaehyun immediately devours, savouring the peachy skin there. It’s probably getting a little too sloppy to be kissing like this. They’re in the kitchen, after all, there’s sanitation issues but Jaehyun is also relatively sure the only thing that can stop him from relishing in the taste of Taeyong’s neck would be an actual wendigo attack.

“Holy fuck, one of our cameras captured something!” Lucas’s voice resounds from the lounge and instantly Taeyong’s breathing falters, and he withdraws, breaking their contact.

“W-what?” he stutters. He’s still staring at Jaehyun. Jaehyun is still staring at him. He moves a step closer.

“Dude, you have to see this. It’s… insane.”

“Do… Do I need to come there now?”

“President, come on, this is _huge_.”

Taeyong’s lips are a pretty pink and he looks at Jaehyun as if asking for permission to leave. If it was up to Jaehyun, of course he’d say screw the fucking ‘wendigo’ but it wasn’t really up to Jaehyun. He wasn’t President of this damn Society.

“We better go see what Lucas has to show us then,” Jaehyun says.

“Uh. Alright. Yes,” Taeyong says nodding, trying to smooth down his hair. A strand is in his face, misplaced from where Jaehyun dug his fingers into it.

He moves to leave but Jaehyun steps a stride faster, arresting his movement with his body, facing Taeyong, looking down. Taeyong’s pupils dilate at the action.

“Your collar,” Jaehyun murmurs, adjusting the ragged fabric, hooking his arms around Taeyong's neck. There's an obvious hitch of breath as Taeyong leans closer, lips already parted, expectantly.

This is going to be the end of Jaehyun. If he doesn’t leave at this very instant there was a very likely possibility he'd have his way with Taeyong right then and there in the kitchen, and as far as he cares, if he has to use butter as lube and if Lucas complains, that's just how it's going to be.

Jaehyun tugs the collar firm and steps back, admiring how wrecked Taeyong looks after about ten and a half kisses with sloppy tongue. Jaehyun's had longer makeout sessions with his laptop screen when watching Sailor Moon while crossfaded.

But Taeyong is flushed bright red and grinning and Jaehyun's stupid, stupid heart is suddenly smiling and Jaehyun can curse it all he wants but he can't stop it. Not without like, having a heart attack and dying. Which might be slightly better than falling for Taeyong.

◬

“Oh shit, that actually looks like something,” Mark says, pointing at the screen. “Wait, no, that's just Doritos crumbs, nevermind.”

They're settled on the couch, Jaehyun squashed between Jungwoo and Mark and even though he keeps getting into this position more and more often that he should get used to it, he still dislikes it as much as the first time. It's the infantilization he decides, that’s what’s bruising his ego. He's older than both of them. He shouldn't be treated like this. But then again, after he made himself comfortable on the couch, Mark walked in after Lucas called for him, and outright said: “Jaehyun, my bitch, move over.”

And Jaehyun, in levels of submission he didn't know he possessed, obeyed and scooted over right to the edge of the couch. Despite the uncomfortable seating, the atmosphere is exciting - this is the closest thing to a breakthrough the Paranormal Society may have ever had. Lucas has the laptop open rewinding the video back and forth. Taeyong is next to him, head bent over in concentration as he pours over notes, entirely focused.

“So this was recorded at about midnight last night by one of the camera traps. Keep an eye on the right corner of the screen.”

Lucas hits the spacebar and the video that begins playing does _seem_ spooky, but in that obvious kind of way: it’s literally just night-vision, that eerie green of trees. The camera is positioned high in the branches of the canopy, and it looks down upon the leaf litter like an eye of God. The footage is sped up, as evidenced by the way the leaves adjust themselves in the wind - and that’s the _only_ evidence, as nothing else happens in the video. The most interesting thing that seems to happen is when a squirrel runs past which excites Jungwoo. All in all, it hardly appears testimony for a wendigo, more evidence for the phenomenon of wind existing.

Mark yawns at this point, and even Jungwoo’s smile falters -

And then there’s a sudden motion on the screen. A humanoid figure, heavily obscured by the trees and it’s own covering, shuffles around. It weaves in and out of trees, no particular goal in mind, and then, perhaps most concerning, it’s head moves up and looks straight at the camera, coming closer - and then, it disappears from view. The vision abruptly shakes, and the camera falls to the ground, and films a side angle of dirt and trees: and the retreating figure is captured as it exits towards the horizon.

Lucas pauses the video. “So. Yeah. That’s a thing.”

Even Mark is rendered speechless. They stare at the laptop screen, and Jaehyun struggles to process what he’s just seen. It’s no animal, that’s obvious, it’s got a clear posture of a human - but it’s also strangely covered, acting strangely and is just… _strange_. If it was a person - what person would be running around the freezing woods for no reason in the middle of the night?

“Go back to when it was looking at the camera,” Jaehyun finds himself ordering.

Even as a still photo, it’s dark and grainy and impossible to discern the details of the figure’s face - with one notable exception. It’s eyes are reflective green, shining like a cat. A consequence of the camera perhaps.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps not.

“What the fuck?” Mark says.

“Yeah. What the fuck,” Lucas agrees. “I don’t know man, it’s weird.”

“If it _is_ a wendigo, it’s shorter than the research we have on them,” Jungwoo reasons. “It can’t be.”

“Yeah, man, this thing looks like. Normal people height. Besides you, you aren’t normal people height,” Mark says to Lucas. “Though, if it’s not a wendigo, it’s gotta be something else, and that’s… well, that’s not something the fucking Akinator can figure out.”

Jaehyun has his eyes fixed on Taeyong. Taeyong’s head is still bowed down, but as if he sense eyes on him, he looks up and there’s a period of sustained eye contact between them. It’s not necessarily awkward, but Jaehyun looks towards him for answers.

“That’s not entirely true, Jungwoo,” Taeyong finally says, clearing his throat. “It’s commonly accepted that they grow bigger the older they are. All the cases in history involve bigger wendigos, ones that have been around for a long time. But, what’s to say that this can’t be a juvenile?”

Jungwoo pauses. “Taeyong, are you suggesting that this could be… a _young_ wendigo?”

“It would explain the height. The confusing movements as well.”

“Taeyong, that’s… a bit much,” Jungwoo says, looking away. “That’s implying that someone who’s been in these woods in the past few weeks has literally gone and… eaten someone else.”

Cannibalism, like conversations about politics and religion, has the unfortunate effect of bringing the general atmosphere of a room down.

 “Maybe it’s a ghost,” Jaehyun suggests, because ghosts are fun. Ghosts are a lot more family orientated. There was even a market devoted to a ghost known for being friendly.

“That’s not a ghost, man,” Lucas snorts. “Don’t be such a rookie. It clearly had physical form and was able to manipulate the environment. And what spectre would get caught on camera? Come on. Get your act together.”

“Has anyone been reported missing lately?” he asks.

“It’s someone’s job to monitor news reports in the area. It was Chenle, wasn’t it? Man, when I see him next time I’m gonna shove his curly blonde ass in a locker and keep him there for bailing on us-”

“It was my job,” Taeyong interjects. “Don’t do anything to Chenle.”

It’s too serious of a situation to laugh, but Jaehyun can’t deny that it’s amusing how all the members of the Paranormal Society seem to gasp at Taeyong’s carelessness, like it’s a betrayal on the level of Judas. Like come on, Taeyong’s crime wasn’t reading the newspaper.

“I just never bothered to check, honestly. There’s never been reports in the past few years we’ve been here, and you know I don’t like using the internet and all that,” Taeyong attempts to defend himself. “I don’t even own a computer, I have to go to the library!”

“It’s been cold,” Jungwoo says, after a pause. “When I was checking the weather, I saw that a few weeks ago there was a really bad snowstorm in the area. People get lost in snowstorms.”

They also get lost in forests, mazes and the mall on Christmas Eve, that was hardly a sign of _cannibalism_.

“It would have to be… concerningly cold to resort to eating someone else,” Jaehyun says.

“It depends on the circumstances I guess. I’m not saying that our wendigo killed anyone, but it’s quite possible they just stumbled across an unlucky schmuck and just… you know… free buffet,” Mark says, following it up with: “Man, I don’t want to be that guy but now that I’m thinking about buffets, I’m so hungry, Taeyong what did you make for dinner?”

Taeyong and Jaehyun share a knowing glance. As far as cooking preparation went, there was dry pasta and gas that wasn’t even hooked up to the stove anymore. That was mostly Jaehyun’s fault, he was the one who _interrupted_ the cooking but he wasn’t about to admit that to Mark.

“I should probably finish that up,” Taeyong says, standing up, dusting off his jeans. “Lucas, do you want to go check out the trap while it’s still light outside? Take Mark with you.”

“I’m taking Jaehyun with us as well, the girth of your thighs makes me think you’re a good runner and good bait,” Mark remarks, grabbing his jacket and tossing Jaehyun’s to him as well.

“Oh, but I was going to help Taeyong in the kitchen-”

“Jungwoo can do that,” Mark says dismissively. “Come on, do you really want to _watch_ him _watch_ a pot boil?”

Not to sound gay or anything, but Jaehyun was reasonably sure he’d be willing to watch Taeyong file his taxes if it meant getting to stare at him uninterrupted.

◬

“Where do you get all the money for this equipment?” Jaehyun says, staring at the camera currently dangling from a tree. He’s sure Lucas tried very hard to position it, and he acknowledges how difficult it must have been climbing up this gnarled oak, but at the same time, it’s currently balanced on the branches using a mixture of rope, shoelaces and packaging tape. Despite its precarious position it’s clear that it’s an expensive camera. Jaehyun bases this assumption from his impressive knowledge base about photography: the camera is black and has a lot of buttons.

“Oh, Taeyong was loaded with scholarship money when we first started,” Lucas says, already halfway up the tree. That primal part of Jaehyun felt the need to climb after him, if just to prove to his own upper body strength that he could - but he also didn’t want to get any holes in this particular pair of pants which really flattered his ass. “Obviously he doesn’t really have much left, but we’ve taken pretty good care of the cameras we currently have!”

As if on cue, one of the cameras on the tree slips from the movement of Lucas climbing up the tree, and almost falls out, if not for being restrained by the packaging tape.

“Hansol used to take dick pics with our digital camera,” Mark says, leaning against the tree thoughtfully. “Walked in on him using some very disturbing angles and I told him he could keep it.”

“We also had a thermal imaging camera. That met an unfortunate end when Ten threw it in the fire. He had a mistaken idea on what the thermal referred to, it’s understandable really, it’s a confusing word.”

“Oh true. And also there’s the EMF meter that Ten took swimming,” Lucas says. “To be fair, that was an accident.”

“What part of it was an accident? He _chose_ to drink five shots in succession.” Mark pauses. “You know, a lot of our equipment problems have to do with Ten. Perhaps it’s for the best he didn’t come this year.”

“It’s certainly a lot quieter and besides, it was Jungwoo who was the one who decided to go for a dip in the lake, and you _know_ Ten hates feeling left out.”

Jaehyun thinks he can relate to Ten in that moment even if he literally knows nothing about him besides his alcohol tolerance. He feels like a neat line has been drawn that separates him from Mark and Lucas. They’ve got their cherished shared memories of Mirror Lake, and Jaehyun can barely point to it on a map. He isn’t really the kind of person to get sentimental, but he can’t deny that he wishes there was a memory that he could recount that fits all of them, so he can join that side of the line.

Perhaps Mark is more perceptive than Jaehyun gives him credit for, because Mark then turns to him and says, “It sounds wild, but honestly it just sort of got out of hand near the end. Like it’s fun as a party, but you know this trip means something to Taeyong, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled everyone else was just using it to fuck around.” Mark pauses. “Literally and figuratively. I don’t know what it is about Mirror Lake, but I swear everyone’s libido skyrockets the second they get here.”

“Can’t even argue with that,” Lucas replies, hauling rope out of his backpack. “This trip does wonders for my relationship, you know?” And then, dropping his volume, “Jungwoo’s been sexting me.”

“How’s that… even possible, you don’t have phones,” Jaehyun says, figuring he’d regret knowing the answer but also knowing he needed the knowledge. A true skeptic.

“We’ve been exchanging letters,” Lucas says with a triumphant smile. “ _Dirty_ letters.”

“It never fails to impress me that you _do_ actually know how to read,” Mark says, shaking his head. “What do these letters say?”

“Things not appropriate for either of you.”

It takes Mark about fifteen seconds to grab Lucas’s jacket that he discarded on the ground and rifle through his pockets, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. The smell of vanilla wafts off it.

“Wait, no, don’t-!” Lucas protests, attempting to reach for it and nearly falling out of the tree, holding on by a single branch.

“Yeah, Mark don’t read that aloud, I really don’t want to know about their sex life,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “Though, god, it must be dead if you’ve resorted to penmanship like a depraved eighteenth century sonnet writer.”

Lucas frowns. “Alright, both of you need to just lay off me and my sexual preferences, I’ve fucked twice today, what have you accomplished?” he calls from the tree.

“Knowing how to spell the word ‘insatiable’ apparently,” Mark replies, waving the note he’s reading. “It doesn’t have a ‘y’, I’ll give you that hint.”

  Jaehyun’s accomplished the world’s most unsanitary kitchen activity involving himself and a partner but still with all their clothes on, but unlike Lucas, he doesn’t feel the need to kiss and tell. Especially, you know, in front of Taeyong’s little brother. 

“I don’t see any claws marks or tracks,” Jaehyun informs them as he looks at the trunks of the trees. There’s an interesting ‘M + Y’ on one section of bark that he decides to question Mark about. “Is that M referring to you by any chance?”

“Oh shit, yeah, that’s me,” Mark says, peering at the letters. “Last year I was dating a girl and I thought it would be really romantic and cute if I wrote our names on a tree and then sent it to her when I got signal but while I was gone, I found out she was DMing some other guy on Instagram so I had to let her go. Once a thot, always a thot, you know,” Mark says, nodding sagely, like he wasn’t born like, last Tuesday.

“You’ve come here since he’s started the organization?” Jaehyun asks. “Taeyong, that is.”

“You did not need to specify. It was abundantly clear who you were referring to.”

Jaehyun waits for Mark to continue speaking, not willing to give him the opportunity to call him a gummy bear again.

“But yes, unfortunately, sharing his DNA and his Gundam figurines meant I have to share in his weird niche interests as well.” Mark pauses. “And my mom like, begged me to go with. To keep an eye on him. So I had to.”

“Really?” Jaehyun says. He can’t really imagine Mark being responsible for anything apart from perhaps a Soundcloud account with seventeen followers.

“Yeah, I see that look, I’ll have you know I’m an incredibly responsible adult that everyone admires.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but you wouldn’t have been an adult when the first expedition was held,” he points out, quickly calculating the age in his head.

“Oh, look at you. Doing maths. That’s cute of you, Jaehyun, it’s a neat party trick.” Mark briefly runs his fingers over the ‘M + Y’ in the tree before turning to face him. “Yeah, alright, look you obviously don’t have siblings judging by how weirdly you act around me and Taeyong. But even if I’m younger than him, I still have to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid - and he does stupid things, _a lot_.“

“Yeah, I’m an only child,” Jaehyun confirms.

“He didn’t even have Lucas back then,” Mark says. “And he needed someone to watch his back. Or well, his leg. Obviously he wasn’t exactly in the best health, he barely made it up the mountain.”

“His leg? What was wrong with his leg?”

It's odd, really. The forest had always been quiet but with Lucas's scuffling as he transversed across the branches and Mark's ambling around the trees, there was an ambient noise that settled over their small party - a noise that was abruptly silenced.

“Uh. I mean. You know. His leg. What else?” Lucas says, shimmying down the tree.

“I'm not following. Did something happen?” Jaehyun asks.

He's never seen Mark look so uncomfortable before, like his skin is two sizes too big for him. “I mean - well… you know. Taeyong was a dance major. Didn't you wonder why he isn't one now?”

“I mean, I guess so but he told me he’s taking general ed classes now. I thought he was busy with that,” Jaehyun says. He can’t remember his coffee order when asked for it, but like, he can listen.

Mark purses his lips. “God, Jaehyun, what the fuck is a general ed class? He _majors_ in dance, why would he _need_ to do shit like Introduction to Classics?”

“I… I guess I didn’t question it. Why isn’t he doing dance anymore?”

 There’s a tense pause. “The guy broke his leg, Jaehyun. Like. Badly. Like as in so badly he had to take medical leave from school for six months and moved back home and had to stay in my room because he _literally_ couldn’t move.”

But he’s a dance major, he needed his legs, how did that work-  Jaehyun stares at Mark, and is filled with such overwhelming pity the words in his throat become smothered by it. Oh god, his leg, his dancing, his _life_... “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun cannot begin to fathom the level of suffering Taeyong must have endured. He wonders if perhaps Mark is exaggerating as he always does, but his voice is restrained and he speaks carefully. It must have hurt, obviously, but it must have done more than just _hurt_ , it must have ached and ached and eaten up his insides and outsides, lying in a hospital bed while everyone else continued their life without him. “That’s… That’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Mark kicks a twig out of his path. “He was… well, I’ve never seen him so lost in his life. It was like he lost his will to live.”

“Oh. I… I didn’t know.”

“I figured he’d have told you already.”

Jaehyun has no right to feel the way that he does, he doesn’t, he’s got no _right_ to any information Taeyong chooses to withhold from him - but he can’t deny that the world seems a bit off on account that Taeyong hadn’t told him. He had time to listen to the entirety of Abbey Road backwards but never thought to mention he had to spend half a year in a wheelchair. “He never said anything to me. No one did.”

Lucas jumps off the tree, landing neatly on the leaf litter, sending scattered fragments into the air. “See, that seems weird but at the same time… we didn’t even know who you were two weeks ago. Now you already seem like part of our squad. Chenle’s been quite adequately replaced, to be honest.” Dumping a bag at Mark’s feet, Lucas steps back and looks at the tree from Mark’s point of view. “Camera’s back up.”

Lucas’s words cause an uncomfortable pit to make a home for itself in Jaehyun’s stomach. The only reason Jaehyun is here is to fulfill a graduation requirement. He doesn’t need friends, he _has_ friends back home - and yet, he’s never gone on a mountain getaway with any of them, he hasn’t sat with them in the morning over pancakes, hasn’t laughed about their awful attempts at letter writing in the middle of a forest.

Being part of the ‘squad’ was _never_ his intention, and it’s distressing for Jaehyun to realize he likes these people _as_ people, rather than just his forced camping buddies. As Lucas and Mark exchange comments about camera placements, the thought that haunts him is that Jaehyun doesn’t think he can just go back to UNCT on Sunday and never talk to them again. He doesn’t think he can just forget that he’s become friends with these people, he _wants_ to see them again.

But also, Jaehyun doesn’t believe in the fucking Illuminati.

◬

And that’s really where he finds himself now, the firepit lit, embers littered around his feet as the Paranormal Society eats their smores, and he’s attempting to separate the normal parts of his life from whatever the fuck this is. He thinks he’ll need the chalk they use to outline dead bodies to delineate the two. 

“What do you think it is, Jaehyun?” Mark asks, wiping his chocolate stained mouth with the back of his sleeve. Jungwoo tuts under his breath at the stain.

“Think what is?”

“The shape in the video.”

Being blurry and humanoid doesn’t necessarily lend itself to the wendigo theory - but it is strange. “Some sort of bear, maybe. They can walk on two legs can’t they?”

“Those are only in the circus,” Lucas clucks, tutting his head.

“I don’t think so, remember that one nature documentary we watched once? The bears stood up in that,” Jungwoo says. “Either way, I don’t think it’s a bear. It was too small and skinny, wasn’t it?”

“Wendigos are small and skinny.”

“So is Taeyong, that’s not really a point in favour of wendigos,” Mark says. He fixes his gaze back to Jaehyun. “But you don’t think it’s a wendigo, is it?”

“I am the resident skeptic here, after all,” Jaehyun says with a hollow laugh.

“Ah, so that’s what you’re calling yourself? I’d just assumed you were here as the resident killjoy,” Mark replies, and takes a sip of his water.

“Mark,” Taeyong chides. He’s sitting on Jaehyun’s right, already done eating, content to bask in the warmth. His legs are crossed and he is observing the fire with quiet interest, his red hair hanging loosely around his forehead.

“You think it’s a wendigo, right?”

“I think that whatever it is, we’ll find out.”

“That means he definitely does,” Lucas whispers to Jungwoo, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Our President’s always right.”

It’s the first night since they’ve arrived that isn’t bitterly icy - the coldfront seems to be breaking, and Lucas already announced his intentions to swim as soon as the water gets warmer. The fire puffs out embers every now and again, and it’s mesmerizing to watch, almost as interesting as actual TV, but not quite.

Jaehyun is enjoying this experience of sitting around a fire with - what he’d tentatively call - his friends, but warning sirens ring in his head when Mark turns to him, not quite done with his torment just yet.

“Jaehyun, why are you here?”

If Yuta was here, he’d know what to say. He’d have the perfect mix of wit and sincerity in order to adequately convey that while he came here for a specific goal, he was nonetheless growing increasingly fond of the people surrounding him. Jaehyun can feel the inquiring glances of the members of the Paranormal Society on him, and now he wishes that he had something to say that explains himself.

“I’m interested in becoming a member of the Paranormal Society,” Jaehyun says, choosing his words carefully, thinking that he’s rather proud of his diplomatic response.

“In my opinion, all you’re really interested in is fucking my brother,” Mark says and Jaehyun chokes on the marshmallow that’s halfway down his throat. 

“That’s,” Jaehyun stammers out, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “I’m.”

“Mark, go get us some more chocolate, they’re on the kitchen counter. And check that the gas is closed,” Taeyong says, and when Jaehyun looks up, there’s a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

As soon as Mark leaves, the atmosphere seems considerably lighter, and when the smell of his Axe body spray dissipates, Jungwoo stretches his arms out and sighs. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, Jaehyun. That’s just how he talks. He wasn’t always like this, he used to actually be… polite.”

“When exactly did Mark become…” Jaehyun trails off.

“A monster?” Lucas says.

“A demon?” Jungwoo says.

“Difficult,” is the word Jaehyun decides on. “When did he become difficult?”

“He was such a nice child,” Taeyong says wistfully, looking at the window of the cabin. “He used to trail after me, used to make cards for my birthday, would get lonely when I went out. He was lovely. And then...”

“Puberty?”

“No. Not his actual puberty. He was fine then. Sure, he'd cry in his room a lot and listen to more Eminem than is healthy but it was fine. No, I've discussed this with Ten and the others and we think he might be going through his second phase of puberty.”

“It's the only explanation,” says Jungwoo, nodding.

“He’s become sort of unbearable, honestly. On the one hand I'm glad his vocabulary has improved. On the other hand, I'd wish he use it to stop insulting me,” Taeyong says. “He once told me that the reason I believe the earth isn’t round is because of how flat my ass is.”

“We've stopped inviting him to meetings. Before he’d used to make the trip like once a month, but now we just keep quiet about it,” Jungwoo says. He bites on his thumb nail. “He doesn't get along very well with the other members. He and Chenle especially… they just keep _yelling_.”

“It's a phase, I'm sure,” Taeyong says with clearly forced optimism. “He just needs to get through this nervous adolescent energy and morph into a well functioning adult.”

“He’s said some mean things to me,” Jaehyun blurts out and Taeyong flashes him a sympathetic smile.

“He says mean things to _everyone_. My advice is to pretend he’s the voice of the irrational thoughts in your head. Like if the voice in your head tells you you’re stupid and can’t do anything, just pretend it’s Mark.”

There's a hush of silence as the cabin door opens.

“It would be quite interesting if Mark found out we had this conversation,” Jungwoo says softly.

The silence lengthens.

◬

“Does he really think that’s going to offend me? Man, the only reason why Taeyong claims I'm going through puberty twice is because he hasn't even gone through it once,” Mark drawls.

Taeyong had disappeared inside, and looked at Jaehyun as if he wanted him to follow - and Jaehyun forced his dick to calm the fuck down, and just shook his head, declining the offer. He _wasn’t_ going to end up complicating his life any further with further contact with the Head Loon in Charge of Ghosts and Stuff.

Lucas, Vice Loon in Charge of Ghosts and Stuff went with him.

“Who told you what he said?” Jaehyun asks, wondering who the resident snitch was. It was incredible that for an organization that had less members than One Direction, the amount of interpersonal drama that interconnected them was staggering.

“Do you really think I’d betray who told me that?” Mark asks, leaning into his chair.

Jaehyun shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, fair enough, it was Jungwoo,” Mark says, gesturing vaguely to Jungwoo, who promptly coughs out the tea he’s drinking.

“Okay, wait, no, I just felt like-” Jungwoo splutters. “Look, it’s just… Lucas always ends up telling Mark and then he gets so upset at everyone…”

“Can’t believe you ratted out your own boyfriend to me. Aren’t you supposed to like ‘love’ him or some gay shit like that?” Mark tuts.

“Look, I do, of course I do, but I always get the rough end of the deal and then I end up having to do your laundry or PayPal you money to your account. I’m trying to get ahead of this.”

“Jungwoo, come on,” Jaehyun says. “You’re better than this.”

“God, you’re both such losers,” Mark says, shaking his head. “Pass me another s’more, I’m done with you all.”

◬

Jaehyun is the only child in a family of persistently curious parents. As a consequence, he knows certain things. He knows how far someone is from his room door based on the muffled sound of their footsteps, and he knows the precise manner in which a gate opens and the delay between entering. It’s this knowledge that allowed him to do whatever manner of inappropriate actions he wanted to without punishment. The art of being a disobedient son with strict parents was one he carefully honed: and for the first time, he’s on the receiving end of this equation.

He’s walking past Jungwoo and Lucas’s room, and the door is firmly shut, but as he steps past he hears the unmistakable hiss of gas releasing from a sealed bottle – and not the kind expected from a can of coke.

Jaehyun hesitates outside the door, and now there’s the sound of pouring – but intelligent pouring. Whoever is on the other side is tilting the liquid to a single side of the cup, to avoid the sound of it splashing against each other. It almost brings Jaehyun back to his own teenage years smuggling beer in his school bag.

He considers just walking on and leaving all of the very legal members of the Paranormal Society to enjoy whatever contraband beverage they brought with – and then realizes that, _oh that’s against the rules_.

Jaehyun isn’t a snitch – but he won’t pretend like he turns the handle to the room door with entirely honourable intentions.

It’s almost amusing – actually, it _is_ amusing at the way Jungwoo’s head shoots back to glare at the door so fast that his hair swooshes around. His eyes widen with shock, followed by guilt, and finally: concern.

The bottle of flavoured cider in his hand is tilted, pouring the liquid into a glass with a tiny umbrella propped up against the side. There’s even salt around the edges.

“Oh. Jaehyun. Hello!” Jungwoo says, his arm shaking, sending splashes of the cider against the glass. “I can explain. There’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

He’s really put thought into this. He’s wedged in the space between the bed and the closet, the furthermost from the door, and supposing he hadn’t been sitting up to pour, he’d have been quite obscured by the duvet. It’s almost like a fairy ring, the way he’s got several colourful bottle surrounding him, a rainbow halo over which Jungwoo lays a protective hand.

“Hi there, Jungwoo,” Jaehyun says, leaning against the doorframe, unable to keep the amused expression from his face.

Jungwoo appears to be unsure how to proceed and nods. “How are you?”

“Not as good as you. How’s everything here?”

“Oh, great. You know. Just...” Jungwoo scrunches his nose. “Okay. Right, I’ll explain myself. This probably looks very incriminating. See, this isn’t _mine_ ,” he nods his head eagerly. “It’s Lucas’s. I just didn’t want to get him in trouble with Taeyong, so I planned to replace all the alcohol with water. That’s why I was pouring it out.”

This is so much better than Jaehyun could have ever expected. He’s suddenly decided he’s going to have children, preferably in the region of around ten so he can continue to have this entertaining power imbalance. It’s literally more fun than Battlefield IV and Jaehyun once pissed in a Lucozade bottle so he wouldn’t have to stop playing.

“That’s so considerate of you. Was part of your plan involving pouring it out into a glass with a little umbrella and everything?”

Jungwoo’s eyes drift to the umbrella, as if cursing it’s existence, as if that was the _sole_ reason it revealed his lie.

Jaehyun steps further into the room and deposits himself next to Jungwoo, who still seems ready to sprint at the first opportunity, moving as far away from him as conceivable in the small space. Reaching for one of the bottles, a bright red one, he reads the label. “I don’t think Lucas is the kind to enjoy blood orange flavoured cider.”

“That’s because he has bad taste,” Jungwoo says, frowning in distaste. “All he wants is beer. It’s horrible. Do you know how awful beer is?”

“Hey, _I_ like beer.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Jaehyun reaches for the bottle Jungwoo has in his hand, this one’s pomegranate flavoured, and samples it. It’s fruit juice, really, with a slight sting – but it’s the only thing other than the cocoa and warm water he’s drank since he got here.

“Are you just drinking straight from the bottle? That’s unsanitary to say the least.” Lines appear on Jungwoo’s forehead.

“You have like twenty bottles here! I’m sure you can spare one or two!”

“Okay, it’s not _that_ many,” Jungwoo protests. His hand closes protectively over his glass. “I couldn’t take anything stronger, now could I? It would smell, for one. What if Mark got into the stash? Or if Taeyong found out?”

“How would he even react?” Jaehyun says, struggling to imagine a Taeyong that’s angry. Does he swear? What if he was actually kind of terrifying? It wouldn’t be too far off to assume - Mark is his brother and Mark seemed down to fight at any given opportunity. And Taeyong, despite everything, has to be at least a little fearless to willingly travel in cannibal-infested woods (of his own belief, but still).

Oh god - what if he just straight up decked Jungwoo in the face for breaking the rules? Kinda hot, though, Jaehyun wouldn’t mind seeing that-

“He’d be _so_ disappointed. And he’d tell Lucas, who’d be so genuinely betrayed, he’ll sulk around the house for hours.” Despite listing this, Jungwoo doesn’t seem like reconsidering his decision. His shoulders relax and he leans against the bed. “Oh well. He’ll get over it, I’m certain.”

“Jungwoo, you’re really not what I expected you to be,” Jaehyun says mildly.

 “What are you even _doing_ here? I didn’t even know you were still home.”

“Surprise?” Jaehyun says, framing his face and smiling. Jungwoo doesn’t smile.

“Everyone’s gone to stake out that camera. They didn’t see anything last night but you know, if you can’t find results, just try again, that’s Taeyong’s approach. Even Mark’s there, I didn’t think… _you’d_ still be lingering.” Jungwoo appears wholly uninterested, sipping from his glass.

“Why didn’t you go with?” Jaehyun asked.

“Why didn’t _you_?” His tone is inquiring.

There was no invitation, for one. Secondly, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to go either. It’s cold. He has better things to do than stare at a tree. “Things are a little weird between me and Taeyong at the moment.”

“Oh - why?” Jungwoo sounds a fraction more interested. 

And Jaehyun is about to answer when he realizes his bottle is empty, and actually this was never about him, this was supposed to be about the one here with the forbidden alcohol and the umbrellas, not the one with sexual tension with the Head Loon in Charge of Ghosts and Stuff.

“Why didn’t you go with, Jungwoo?” Jaehyun asks, swapping out his empty bottle for a new one. He decides on blueberry. He’s always liked blueberry. He always used to buy that girl at the skatepark blueberry smoothies. He bought her a blueberry smoothie everyday for a whole summer, and she still didn’t suck his dick. God, life was so unfair. Jaehyun dismissed the thought from his mind.

“I didn’t think I was needed,” Jungwoo replies, handing Jaehyun the bottle opener.

“Of course, you realized your own uselessness and then immediately decided the logical solution was to drown your sorrows in flavoured juice?” Jaehyun replies. “Where did you get this? _When_ did you get this? Is there some mystical mountain seller I don’t know about?”

“I had it in my bag, obviously.”

“You hiked up with... nine bottles of cider in your bag?”

“Well. Ten. It was a discount, you see. I couldn’t refuse. Besides, it’s not like you had to carry it. Me and Lucas did all the heavy lifting. All you had to do was look pretty.” As if to emphasize his point, Jungwoo leans over and sticks his index finger right into Jaehyun’s dimple, giggling. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrow.

Jungwoo coughs, trying to resume his serious tone. “Anyway, you have no right to judge.”

“Jungwoo, why are you...doing this?” Jaehyun asks, sighing.

He’s polite enough to let Jungwoo finish his drink. He’s also polite enough to let Jungwoo then open another bottle and top himself off, but his patience starts to wear thin when he insists upon drinking that one as well.

“Jaehyun. We’re rational men,” Jungwoo says, looking at the bed. There’s a set of flannel pyjamas laid out. They’ve got cherries on them. It’s really nice - if Jaehyun was the kind to wear pyjamas, he’d wear those. But he isn’t. Once you experience the sensation of bare nipples against satin sheets, it’s difficult to go back.

“We are?” Jaehyun asks. “Members of the Paranormal Society? Since when?”

“We’re out in woods. At Mirror Lake. Hunting cannibals who’ve turned into super powered zombies who eat people,” Jungwoo states, each word harshly punctuated.

“That’s an accurate assessment of our situation,” Jaehyun says diplomatically. “I mean, there’s a lot of areas for research into the subject.”

“Jaehyun, there’s no areas of research into the subject,” Jungwoo says. “Wendigos aren’t fucking real.”

It’s perhaps an overreaction to the most rational statement said in the past 96 hours but Jaehyun spittakes, sending a shower of saliva and cider onto the duvet. Jungwoo recoils, moving further back.

“That’s quite disgusting of you, Jaehyun,” Jungwoo says, and somehow even though he isn’t swearing, the words are cutting. “This isn’t even your bed. I have to sleep on this now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, and attempts to dab the wet section of the duvet with the same wet section. It is, very unsurprisingly, not effective and Jungwoo shakes him off, reaching for a tissue and wiping it down. “I just… are you serious though? Saying that wendigos aren’t...” he trails off.

“Real? Don’t worry, Jaehyun, there’s no recording devices here. The only surveillance risk that exists here is if people literally walk past you while you’re talking.” He’s so casual in the way he’s leaning against the wall, as if he hadn’t just shifted Jaehyun’s entire world view.

“Jungwoo, I don’t understand, you’re here for the wendigo search, you’re in the Society, like you... you were one of the people who seemed most excited, you warn Lucas not to get himself eaten everytime he walks out of the door.”

“Gosh, Jaehyun,” Jungwoo says, playing with the umbrella in his glass, “It’s like you’ve never built yourself an entire identity based on an intricate system of lies before.”

There’s tipsyness in the fog of Jaehyun’s head and he leans against the bed for support, reaching up to grab one of the pillows. “You lied?”

Jungwoo doesn’t respond.

“So, you don’t believe anything?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jungwoo is quick to clarify. “I’m very much involved in the study of conspiracy theories, if perhaps from a more objective point of view. I do think that the government does things that they’re not telling us. I have read some _very_ convincing arguments for chemtrails. And frankly, I still find that eye on the back of the one dollar bill suspicious. But, Jaehyun… _cannibalistic zombies aren’t real_ , and if I have to pretend that they are, I’m not doing that sober.”

No. Wendigos aren’t real. And Jaehyun’s truly been slipping if he’s started to think that there was even a slight possibility that there was. “Why bother pretending then? I’m sure you and Lucas’s relationship could survive you admitting you don’t believe World War Z will come true. ”

“Because I love him, you fool.”

Oh.

“And if love means I need to act shocked when he sends me a 144p Youtube video of a kid in Utah in a white sheet that he claims is evidence of demonic possession, then that’s what I’ll do. And then I’ll drive us to get holy water _and_ I’ll let him pick the music in the car. I adore him, and he adores this Society, and he adores Taeyong and -” Jungwoo pauses. “God. I think. I think that it’s not that much. To pretend, you know? It’s not that hard.”

The wheels in Jaehyun’s mind struggle to turn. He’d painted all of them with the same brush, assumed an almost constant gradient from most to least craziness peaking at Taeyong, potentially correlated with attractiveness, but he hadn’t graphed the data yet. He hasn't even begun to consider that anyone could be pretending - least of all Jungwoo, who seemed the very definition of sincere.

But Jungwoo has his hand around another unopened bottle and looks up at the ceiling, eyes wistful. “It’s not that difficult, you know. It’s a little dishonest, I guess but... it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just what makes him happy. And I like having him be happy more than I like being right.” He pauses, blinking as if surprised at his own truth.

“Damn. That was gay,” is all Jaehyun is able to reply.

“Yeah. It was.” Jungwoo nods. “Try the tropical pineapple flavour next by the way, it’s one of my favourites.”

There’s a strange feeling unfurling in Jaehyun’s heart as he tries to sort out the tendrils of his thoughts, attempting to separate the Jungwoo he (sort of) knows from the one he’s starting to know. Jaehyun had met Jungwoo and been introduced to him as the other half of Lucas, his better, friendlier half and that could clearly be seen - the love the two possessed for each other radiated as far out as Jungwoo’s own smile. To know that perhaps things were not quite as simple as it seemed is difficult to process. A conflict of core beliefs is a breaking point for relationships, obviously, of course, Jaehyun knows this. But then… why is it _not_ for Jungwoo and Lucas?

“You can’t tell him, obviously,” Jungwoo says, eyes widening. “He won’t believe you anyway, but you _can’t_ tell him.” He grabs the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt with a surprisingly tight grip. “Jaehyun, I’m warning you.” 

“Of course not! I wasn’t going to! At all!” Jaehyun says. “I’m offended you even think I would.”

He relaxes his grip on the glass. “I had to be sure. You’re quite the skeptic.”

“Mmm. I am,” Jaehyun says, and before he’d be rather proud of being the only rationally minded man around, but just feels kind of empty now.

“You won’t need to bother with us for much longer. You won’t even need to show up for meetings. You can go graduate with your numbers and plus signs and move on with your life.” Jungwoo pauses. “Can I hold your hand? I miss Lucas.”

Jaehyun stares. “I mean, I _guess_.”

Jungwoo slips his hand into Jaehyun’s and he’d never admit it, but it’s quite nice. Jungwoo is a rather adept snuggler. He leans on his shoulder. “You know, Taeyong likes you.”

“Really? Did he say so?” Jaehyun asks, like he hadn’t already mapped out the surface of Taeyong’s mouth with his tongue.

“He’s not a difficult person to read, and neither of you are particularly subtle. You might think that you are, but let me assure you: you aren’t. I’m not going to force you to do anything, far from it. But you know, take it from me. it’s easier than you think to just go along with them, to let them believe what they want to believe.”

“Go along with them?” Jaehyun repeats.

“Just enjoy the ride.”

“You’re drinking contraband cider in an internetless cabin in the middle of nowhere, what’s _enjoyable_ about this?” Jaehyun says, but there’s no venom in his words. There’s intrigue.

Jungwoo tilts his glass forward and clinks it with Jaehyun’s. “Well, it’s a nice night tonight, isn’t it?”

The tropical pineapple tastes artificial, there’s still spit stains on the duvet and Jaehyun’s fingers still have that residual ache from the cut but he says, with all sincerity, because he really does mean it: “Yeah. It is a nice night.”

◬

“That’s not the door to your bedroom. That’s the door to the storage room,” Mark says. “And it’s locked. And you’re also on the wrong floor. Also your face is unappealing, that’s unrelated but that’s just sort of a constant when it comes to you.”

Jaehyun takes an unsteady step backwards and realizes that would explain why he hasn’t been able to open it. He turns to look at Mark, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Dude, are you okay? You look super out of it. Like more than usual.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m great.” He’s stumbled out of Jungwoo’s bedroom about fifteen minutes ago, and he felt better after he took a piss, but now he’s just in that sort of haze that comes from having drunk far too much and being too far gone to do anything about it. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Mark snorts. “I was doing alright till I had to see your face which, as previously mentioned, is repulsive.”

“That’s really mean of you.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

“That hurt my feelings, Mark.”

Mark pauses in disbelief, just staring blankly, and then takes a moment to see the way Jaehyun’s bottom lip quivers. “God, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were that sensitive. Are you like high?”

“I don’t do drugs.” Mark’s stare doesn’t diminish. “Only recreationally,” Jaehyun concedes. “And it’s not like I brought any with.”

“You need to share next time, honestly, you don’t know what kind of fresh hell it is for me to be stuck up here for a week with you losers. You’re just all _so_ lame, I can’t deal with it. Like do you all just live like this? Sitting by the fireplace drinking filtered water and talking about wendigos?”

“I don’t know, it’s not like I ever hang out with them.” Jaehyun feels off-center but he’s telling the truth. He didn’t even know these people before Yuta introduced them to him. All their previous fireside chats had a definite _lack_ of Jaehyun.

Mark deposits himself on the couch, grabbing the magazine he’s left open. “Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting, you’re not like… an actual part of them. You’re just here for the college credit.”

“I’m sort of part of them,” Jaehyun defends, sitting on the couch opposite Mark. Mark’s eyes widen at this and he looks up at him over the cover of his magazine. “Do you think I am? That I fit in?”

“Are we having like, a full on heart-to-heart right now?”

“No! I thought we were just… chatting.” There’s the sound of the toilet flushing and Jaehyun assumes it’s Jungwoo. He hopes he’s having a good time, Jaehyun left him with the final bottle of flavoured cider, figuring he deserves it since he brought it up. The last Jaehyun saw of him, he was singing his favourite Taylor Swift song. “Does everyone know I only joined for the university requirement?”

“Anyone with two braincells. Make of that what you will.” Mark pauses. “I gotta know though, if you’re just in it for a credit, why the Paranormal Society? Why not any other place that’s more suited to you, like the Society of People Who Look Like Bread? It really doesn’t seem that you believe in _anything_ that we do.”

Jaehyun believes in somethings. He believes that maths is the language of the cosmos. He believes that weed should be decriminalized because is it really a crime to stack a bowl and watch Powerpuff Girls episodes till his eyes hurt? He believes that Yuta is the Devil’s son and was put on Earth to ruin Jaehyun’s life but is also his best friend, and that if there was a fire, Jaehyun would save him before he saves himself. If just because Yuta knows the Netflix password.

But Jaehyun doesn’t believe in much of anything else. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, he doesn’t believe in goblins and he doesn’t believe in God. Jaehyun’s life is defined by a noticeable lack of faith in pretty much everything, a stark contrast to Taeyong who’s devotion could inspire poetry. And Mark looks at him, his head tilted to the side, in an angle very reminiscent of Taeyong, and Jaehyun could have gone for the honest answer, could have explained to Mark that his own laziness was the reason why Jaehyun had no other options, why he ended up having to join this Society to begin with. But he settles for what he thinks is the real truth, that sticky flypaper that’s attached itself to his heart: “I think I have feelings towards your brother.”

“I have feelings towards him too. The feelings generally range from second-hand embarrassment to… yeah, that’s about it, that’s all I feel when I look at him.”

“Mark, I’m being serious,” Jaehyun whispers, and stares at his hands in horror. “Oh god, I have _feelings_ towards _him_. Did you know? Did I know?”

With a restrained sigh like he’s being punished, Mark lifts his legs up onto the couch and leans back. “Remember that time he dropped the spoon in front of you and bent down to pick it up and you looked like you had a religious experience? Like, yeah, I think I’ve figured that out. You need to stop leering so obviously.”

“I don’t leer!” Jaehyun protests. If he _does_ leer, it’s only because Taeyong is such a fine physical specimen he deserves to be admired in any capacity. And even that, it’s a _classy_ kind of leering, like how one would look at a Monet painting.

“It’s not just the leering though,” Mark adds after a moment of thought. “You also have this… habit. Where you stare at him with this weird soppy look on your face, like you think he’s the most beautiful person you’ve seen in your life. It’s quite disgusting, you’ve made me throw up at least six times.”

 “Did I really cause that?” Jaehyun gasps. Oh, that’s horrible, he didn’t mean to do that to Mark’s digestive system. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Mark stares at him. “Are you actually high? I’m exaggerating, I always fucking exaggerate. God, you’re so _dumb_. Oh, don’t look at me like that, okay I’m sorry for calling you dumb. You really are just a gummy bear- okay, okay, look it’s a compliment, being a gummy bear is a _good_ thing. It’s suggesting that you look sort of…  caring.”

Having received what is quite possibly a _compliment_ from the demon currently residing in the cabin, Jaehyun puffs out his chest with pride. And then his eyes drift to Taeyong’s room, door ajar, where he can see the neat row of books in the corner that he organizes meticulously by alphabet and genre, and Jaehyun’s heart softens. In a lower voice he adds, “I think I really do like your brother.” The words feel so _good_ to say aloud. He likes Taeyong. He really does.

Mark pauses, tossing his magazine on the coffee table, missing it by about an inch, and then not bothering to pick it up from the ground. “You know, Jaehyun, I don’t think you’re some master manipulator. I don’t think you’re trying to plunder my brother’s virtue or whatever. I think you’re just a dumbass who’s found a kindred dumbass and now you’re trying to complete yourself so that by some miracle, when you’re together, you’ll be a semi-functioning human being. But Jaehyun - look at me, I need you to focus.”

The urgency of Mark’s tone cuts through the tipsiness that clouds Jaehyun’s head. He’s looking at him directly, focused entirely on him and Jaehyun attempts to clear the fog from his brain, and sits straight up, maintaining perfect posture as if there was a direct correlation between an arched back and paying attention. This was important information. He was going to tell him the key to winning Taeyong’s heart and maintaining his worldview. Or perhaps he’d tell him next week’s lottery numbers. Either way, he was going to solve all Jaehyun’s problems. He was sure of this. Mark was just incredible like that, a consequence of being Satan’s High Demon.

“You need to treat him better.”

“ _What_?” 

“I’m serious,” Mark says, and for once he isn’t talking with that drawl that he usually does, his voice is restrained and chipped. “He’s had a really rough couple of years, and somehow breaking his fucking leg wasn’t even the worst of it. It’s one thing to have his dream job shot dead in the face, it’s another thing that he’s lost basically _all_ of his friends.”

“The accident?” Jaehyun’s face grows downcast.

“Yeah.”

“But he has friends, I mean-” Jaehyun gestures vaguely to the house. He literally had four friends living in this cabin, that had to count for something.

“You know how we always talk about what happened in the previous years at this yearly expedition? It’s cause it’s so different from what it used to be.” Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. “This place used to be fucking packed with his old dancing crew but it gets increasingly difficult for them to bother with their ex-colleague’s weird obsession with conspiracy theories. Membership has dwindled, and so has his friend circle as a consequence.”

“Like Ten and them?”

“Yeah. Like Ten and them. He pretends like he doesn’t mind but I know he does. Who wouldn’t mind, honestly? He lost like his whole future and all his friends in like three years.”

Jaehyun’s mind drifts to his room, piled with forgotten possessions of unknown owners. All mismatched, all just memories of people who used to come and no longer do. “Oh. I hadn’t considered...”

“They’re not bad people, though, it’s not like they intentionally wanted to hurt his feeling. They just… got bored. Taeyong’s neurotic, he’s obsessive and he’s intense and it can be difficult to deal with him. He’s not always the easiest person to be around.” Mark runs a hand through his tangle of brown hair and sighs, dropping his feet back to the ground, sitting up.

“I like being around him,” Jaehyun says softly.

 Mark looks up. “I know he’s crazy. Trust me, I _know_ , I was next to him when he was bedridden and spent all his time on YouTube watching these fucking batshit documentaries about lizard people. I know he believes some crazy shit, but if you really do like him? Try not to insult him everytime he brings up the fucking Illuminati. Bite your tongue if you have to, count to ten, say a prayer to yourself, but just be _nicer_.”

And then, as an afterthought, Mark adds: “If I can pretend that zombie cannibals are running around Mirror Lake, you can at least nod your head every once in a while.”

Jaehyun’s thoughts skid to a halt. He was paying attention, he really was but Mark couldn’t have said that, that wasn’t possible-

“Wait. You don’t believe in wendigos?”

“Of course not,” Mark snorts. “The only thing people die from in these mountains is boredom and hypothermia and Taeyong’s undercooked kebabs. But that doesn’t matter. This is a free vacation.”

“Mark…” Jaehyun’s breathing is erratic. “You don’t believe in wendigos.”

“Okay, quieten down there, no need to put it on blast to the entire mountain,” Mark shushes, putting his finger to his mouth. “Look, I’m here for the government conspiracies, I’m here for the ‘Johnny Seo is the Zodiac Killer’, I’m here for the Freemasons. I’m _not_ here to listen to my brother claim there’s a boogeyman hiding in the bushes.”

It’s like stepping into a house with the lights off and then finding out, oh, it’s not actually a house, actually it’s a pit of lions and actually the lights were on the whole time, you just had your eyes closed and also you’re a dumbass who’s about to get eaten now. Jaehyun finds himself floored, unable to process the finer details of what Mark is saying. This means that both him _and_ Jungwoo think this trip is useless, but have gone along with the deception with no apparent moral quandary as a result, both choose to put aside their own thoughts for the sake of the people they love.

Jaehyun had grown to think of the Paranormal Society as some sort of echo chamber for Taeyong and his ragtag team of weirdos to reinforce their beliefs, urging each other on as they steadily grew more and more irrational - but it seemed increasingly less like that. More like they were just several friends, all vaguely connected by a fledgling interest, here for a good time. It hadn’t occurred to Jaehyun that it was possible to be closely associated with these people and somehow... not... end up like them.

Thinks it can’t be possible. Because that’s why he’s been attempting to keep his distance from Taeyong, because while Jaehyun absolutely likes him as Mark could readily confirm, it’s not like Jaehyun can also unsubscribe from reality in the same way that Taeyong could.

“I had no idea he lost so many friends,” Jaehyun murmurs, wondering what it must have been like to watch everyone around him move on and for him to remain steady and still.

“You know, Jaehyun,” Mark says, frown lines appearing on his forehead as he picks up his magazine, “maybe this is just his weird ass coping mechanism after the accident. But you probably should have respected it a little more independent of knowing that.” He pauses to turn to the next page. “You were just kind of a massive dick. No offense.”

Jaehyun has quite possibly never been more offended in his life.

And then he just feels guilt, swirling around his head, mixed with tropical pineapple cider. Jaehyun tries to be a good person, he really does. He doesn’t try _hard_ , but he likes to think he’s better at being a human than like, say, Yuta for example. But then again, Yuta is a veterinarian in training whose job is to help sick fluffy animals. The thing is, despite it all, Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s a ‘massive dick’. But then he thinks about how he’s mercilessly referred to Taeyong as every possible version of ‘crazy’, how he’s insulted the society… and yeah, alright maybe he is kind of a dick.    

Mark interrupts Jaehyun’s depression spiral. “For what it’s worth, I do think my brother kind of likes you back, even though I’m throwing up in my mouth as I say it. But you better not do something stupid like hurt his feelings. Because I’ll have to deal with it, and I don’t know, I’ll probably hack your Facebook or set fire to like your car. I don't know. Depends how I feel.”

Jaehyun becomes suddenly fearful for his car, despite it being miles away, safety in the parking lot of UNCT. He’s about to beg Mark for mercy when he hears muffled voices on the deck and he casts a worried look at Mark.

“Taeyong actually likes someone for once. Don’t fuck it up Jaehyun. He’s a lot more sensitive than you’d think.” With that, Mark puts the magazine up, completely covering his face.

The door squeaks open and Taeyong and Lucas walk in, filling the room with the scent of sweat. The cold wind seems to push them in and Lucas is jumping from side to side, trying to regain the warmth that left his body. Taeyong hesitates in taking off his coat when he sees Jaehyun, giving a gentle wave.

“Hey Jaehyun,” he says, voice strained from the cold.

“Hi.”

Taeyong hangs his coat up. “Had a good time here?”

“Yeah. I was hanging out with Jungwoo.”

Taeyong radiates warmth. “Oh! That’s lovely. I’m glad you two are getting along. He’s such a lovely guy.”

“I’m glad to see you back. Did you run late?”

“A little,” he says, smiling apologetically. “We sent Mark back earlier. Can’t have him catching a cold on us, can we?”

“Of course not,” Jaehyun says, vaguely thinking that demons don’t suffer from the flu, “but you shouldn’t be out so late either. What if you get sick?”

Taeyong pulls off his mittens, a soft blush painting his cheeks. “If that’s the case then I hope you’ve learnt how to make my favourite soup. I know you’ve spent enough time watching me cook.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I take care of your every need.”

He wouldn’t flirt quite so openly normally, but his mind is still fuzzy, his whole vision is fuzzy and Taeyong is just so angled against everything else, so noticeably _different_. And pretty, he’s so damn _pretty_.

“God, get out of my face, you two are disgusting,” Mark mutters, grabbing his magazine, the room door slamming behind him.

Taeyong blinks. “What was that for?”

“No idea. Absolutely none.” Jaehyun yawns, loud and full, and is filled with the urge to curl up on the lumpy mattress he’s growing increasingly fond of. “I think I’m heading to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely,” Taeyong answers, as if they weren’t literally stuck in the middle of nowhere on the mountain together. The assurance in his voice is endlessly endearing. _Taeyong_ is endlessly endearing, everything he does is just so captivating and Jaehyun might be more whipped than he’s willing to admit. Hesitantly, Taeyong moves a step closer, and then he reaches up to Jaehyun, embracing him, and when he feels Jaehyun’s hands against his back, Taeyong buries his face into the crook of his neck.

“Sleep nice.” Taeyong’s breath is warm on his neck, and it’s electrifying, Jaehyun’s flesh reacts, and now he’s wide awake, he’s more than awake, he’s never going to need sleep again actually.

Jaehyun wishes he was more sober for this. He’d appreciate it more, he’d enjoy the sentiment of it. Right now, he wants more than a chaste hug, no matter how sweet. The heady sound of Taeyong’s breath fluttering over his exposed skin just has Jaehyun thinking along the lines of throwing him on a bed and fucking him at a really slow pace while he explains in great details the reasons why the Zodiac Killer could not be Johnny Seo.

But then Taeyong holds him a little tighter, and Jaehyun pulls him closer, and feels his heart grow a little bigger.

Lucas clears his throat. “Uh. Not to disturb, but Taeyong still has the key in his hand and I really need to lock the front door. I’m freezing my ass off.”

With a noticeable delay Taeyong disentangles himself from Jaehyun and looks up, smiling ruefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as he drops the key in Lucas’s outstretched hand. The door is quickly shut while Lucas mutters under his breath.

“See you tomorrow then,” Taeyong breathes out.

“See you then.”

As Jaehyun walks past Mark’s room on his way upstairs, he hears a definitive: “You’re living in the same fucking house, stop being so gay and dramatic.”

◬

Jaehyun loves maths. It’s one of those facts of life, like gravity, like rain, like taxes. He’s loved maths since those multiplication tests would come out in primary school and he’d proudly fill in his answers in bare seconds, flipping the page with as much noise as possible, so _everyone_ knew he was done, so _everyone_ knew how good he was.

The invisible interwoven threads that exist between the natural world are glowing red when seen by Jaehyun and he’s felt that way for as long as he can remember. From the particular pattern in which a pinecone curls around itself to the radiance of branching trees, Jaehyun thinks if he looks hard enough, if he studies hard enough, he’ll speak the particular language in which atoms vibrate - it’s not too unbelievable, it’s the same one he uses to calculate tips at the restaurant and to tell how much time it’ll take him to get to class if he sleeps in a few minutes more. There’s beauty in numbers, and Jaehyun knows that, he’s adopted that artist's eye that allows him to appreciate that particular way equations are but crimson windows into the universe.

And Jaehyun loves being able to comprehend the manner in which everything arranges itself, and it may be intangible mist to everyone else but it’s so _real_ , the effects are as real as the blood that flows through his veins.

It’s why he can’t fathom Taeyong. He’s known people who have minds on different frequencies, but Taeyong is a different radio. There’s no logical explanation as to why someone of sane mind and body genuinely believes that the Moon isn’t real. Jaehyun’s trying to be better, but he also can’t begin to relate to him.

Jaehyun has already known that he needs to stop before anything progresses further with Taeyong because there’s already affection forcibly clawing his way into Jaehyun’s heart and with every one of those wide-eyed looks Taeyong gives him, it buries deeper. But Jaehyun finds himself thinking about Jungwoo, thinking about Mark, and wondering about the ethical implications of just… lying. It’s wrong, it’s objectively wrong to just go along with something he knows to be false.

But Jaehyun’s also kind of a hypocrite though, because Taeyong’s called him into his room and locked the door and while Jaehyun isn’t entirely sure _what_ Taeyong wants, he has a 70% idea, and he didn’t need his mathematics degree to figure that out.

He’s a bit of a people’s pleaser, that’s the real problem. Yuta knows this and abuses it no end. Jaehyun just doesn’t like saying no, so that’s why he’ll be the last to leave the party because Yuta’s hooking up with some stranger and they carpooled here and it’s why he’s _always_ the one to go out to get ice when they’ve run out.

Which is why when Taeyong looks up at him, all doe-eyed and blinking, and asks: “Jaehyun? I’m not sure if you remember, but a few days ago in the kitchen, we… well, we kissed, and I just wasn’t sure if it was a mistake or not, I mean, I very much enjoyed it and I thought you did too, but if it was a mistake I understand and I don’t mind, so if it was, I’d like to know?”

 _I’m not sure if you remember._ He cannot be real.

Jaehyun’s immediate response is the very rational and well-thought out plan of pushing Taeyong down onto his bed and kissing out the rest of his uncertainty, and Taeyong responds with adequate enthusiasm.

And that’s really where Jaehyun finds himself now, oblivious to time and space, oblivious to anything but the way in which his legs feel when Taeyong straddles against him, gasping at each open-mouth swipe of tongue against his neck.

Taeyong settles himself into Jaehyun’s lap like he belongs there and it’s honestly painful how hot he looks, all flushed, practically pawing at the fabric of Jaehyun’s t-shirt, sending an unsubtle message to continue kissing him, one that won’t be left unanswered.

He complies and pulls Taeyong even closer, savouring the squeak of delight that releases from his mouth when he kisses them. He can feel Taeyong’s hands rake up and down his spine, and as the kiss deepens, so does the pressure at which he’s clawing till his skin feels like it might tear.

Taeyong isn’t the best kisser, if Jaehyun had to be entirely honest, as he briefly parts their lips to nuzzle at his neck, just to stop any more potential teeth chipping accidents to occur. It isn’t his fault, really, and Jaehyun was sure that with time he’d improve. What Taeyong is, however, is entirely fine with letting Jaehyun take control and seems content to let Jaehyun use him in any manner he wishes. Content might be putting it mildly when Taeyong flatout moans in Jaehyun’s ear when he sucks on the junction between his collarbones.

A fact Jaehyun finds out when Taeyong is pushing him further back to have better access to his abdomen, is that there’s an X-Files poster on the ceiling. It’s the classic one that even Jaehyun recognizes, the one with the UFO proclaiming “I WANT TO BELIEVE” and Jaehyun would think it was just subtle propaganda if it weren’t for the poster’s weathered edges, clearly predating Jaehyun’s arrival. He stops looking at the poster after that, partly out of awkwardness, partly because his eyes screw shut when Taeyong’s hands start roaming.

All in all, Taeyong is _much_ more tolerable when he’s physically incapable of talking, and why yes, his hair is actually as fluffy as Jaehyun thought, and he enjoys having it pulled far too much for it to be just casual coincidence. All in all, being straddled by the President of the Paranormal Society really wasn’t as distressing as Jaehyun thought. In fact, it was really enjoyable. In fact, Jaehyun’s not sure he wants to stop kissing Taeyong, in general. _Taeyong_ definitely doesn’t want to stop, he won’t stop whining at the lightest of touches.

“Shh,” Jaehyun whispers, pulling back, fingers tracing over Taeyong’s shiny wet lips.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong says, voice heady, whispering right into Jaehyun’s ear. “Could you spit in my mouth?”

Jaehyun coughs, really coughs, just flatout splutters so much so that Taeyong’s eyes widen in alarm and he pats him heartily on the back. “Sorry, I just… didn’t expect that.”

Taeyong moves closer, hands rubbing over Jaehyun’s thighs, hiding in the crook of Jaehyun’s neck. “I just think it’ll feel so good, you feel so good, Jaehyun, you feel _so_ good-”

He’s steadily increasing in volume and Jaehyun has to use what little presence of mind he has left to cup Taeyong’s face and tilt it downwards. “Shh, don’t you think someone might hear?”

“You’re right,” Taeyong says, and his eyes widen a little and Jaehyun realizes belatedly he may have made a mistake. Oh fuck, god, why did Jaehyun phrase it like that, he just wanted to sound alluring and now it’s too late, he can already see Taeyong is about to kill the hard-on he’s had for the past fifteen minutes-

“Government surveillance has greatly increased these past few years,” Taeyong says and Jaehyun knows this because he gave a whole speech on it last night before dinner, and he really just wants to get back to kissing but he’s got Taeyong _started_. “It’s part of their overall indoctrination scheme. You know I’ve heard that the government’s started to put auditory monitoring chips in trees as well. We’re not safe even up here,” Taeyong says, nodding feverently. And then, because this is entirely normal to him, because he’s crazy, he goes back to kissing Jaehyun and even the hand that’s temptingly trailing up his thigh isn’t even enough to let this slide.

“Taeyong, fucking - _no_ ,” he says, and pushes him off, and he does regret it at first because damn, Jaehyun did _not_ get around enough to be throwing beautiful eager boys off his damn lap.

But then he regains his resolve when he remembers certain beautiful eager boy just implied that the government had time in between covering up the death of Paul McCartney and controlling the masses through gas to put recording devices in trees.

“What?” Taeyong says, and he has the nerve to actually pout with his ruby red lips. Ruby red lips which, up until a minute ago, had been preoccupied until he had to go _ruin_ it. “Is something wrong?”

“You just- You- I mean, you can’t-” Jaehyun attempts, failing helplessly, pointing to the open window. “The trees! You can’t just…”

Staring at him in complete confusion, Taeyong uses the back of his hand to wipe the saliva dribbling on his chin. “What’s wrong, Jaehyun?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

“The trees!”

Taeyong’s eyes widen and he nods eagerly. “Oh, is that what you’re worried about?” No, no it _wasn’t_ what he was worried about but there is, he’s started again. “Look, we should be okay. Those auditory devices aren’t too common, and even then, I don’t think the CIA cares to listen to the recording of us. But if you are still feeling concerned about your privacy, I have a white noise machine we can use.” Taeyong slots his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, smiling broadly. “It even has whale sounds, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

He can’t be real. He can’t physically be real, he can’t have brought a white noise machine to combat the effects of auditory surveillance. Jaehyun can see the threads of the universe as bright red and then he looks at Taeyong and he at first wondered what colour they are for him but now he wonders if they’re even a colour, if they’re even _there_.

Taeyong props himself up straight, gazing at him through heavy lashes, waiting for a explanation. He’s playing with the fabric of his top. “Is something wrong?” There’s confusion in his tone.

The part of Jaehyun that isn’t rational (his dick) makes himself reconsider stepping away from Taeyong - and to stop himself from any lapse in judgement, he steps off the bed, coughing slightly as he attempts to readjust his shirt. Taeyong makes a whining noise, trying to grab at Jaehyun as he leaves.

“I need to take a walk,” Jaehyun mutters, not quite strong enough to witness the disappointment in Taeyong’s face as he leaves the room. Whatever, Jaehyun decides, Taeyong can occupy himself _with_ himself if he really wants to. Jaehyun immediately throws that thought away because that idea is actually sort of really hot, and he’d love to see that and he’s trying to get rid of that mentality.

He leans against the closed bedroom door, sighing, running a hand through his hair and attempts to refocus, get his life together, remember what he was doing before he ended up in Taeyong’s room. Trying to will his boner to die just like his dreams. It takes him longer than he’s proud of to realize there’s a set of eyes on him.

Looking up, he’s face to face with Mark, currently sitting upright on the couch, leaning on the headrest, his copy of MAD Magazine propped open, clearly unread. There’s no mercy in Mark’s face.

“Oh. Hi Mark,” Jaehyun says. He stands up straighter. “How’s it going?”

“Were you making out with my brother?” Mark asks, staring with unfaltering eyes, getting to the point in typical Mark fashion.

“No.”

“God, did you… _oh god_ , fucks sake Jaehyun, I share that room with him!” Mark replies, wincing. “I told you to be nicer to him! That didn’t mean you should do _that_ in broad daylight! I wanted you to stop calling him crazy, not… defile our bedroom!”

“No, it’s-” Jaehyun attempts but he’s cut off before he even gets half his justification out.

“You were barely in there, my tea isn’t even cold, the _fuck_. What are you, a damn virgin?”

“No, we didn’t! I didn’t!” Jaehyun protests and then realizes he’s currently faltering in front of Taeyong’s younger brother, and he should probably try and regain some dignity. “First of all, it’s none of your business.”

“It literally is, that’s our room.”

Well, fair enough, honestly. “Nothing happened,” Jaehyun says in the most neutral tone he can muster.

“Really?” Mark presses. “Nothing happened? In the locked room? For twenty minutes?”

Jesus Christ, this kid was sort of terrifying. The intensity that’s cute in Taeyong is multiplied into fear in Mark. “Look, just-”

“Yes?”

He really isn’t sure where he was planning on going with this. “I need to go. I really need to go.”

“God, I hate you both. This was supposed to be my free vacation in the mountains, not a speed dating service. Jungwoo and Lucas were bad enough, tonguing all over the place since last year and now you and Taeyong. I’m so neglected and forgotten. No wonder I have self-esteem issues,” Mark grumbles to himself, falling back on the couch, opening his magazine.

He could reasonably assume Mark had stronger self confidence than Jaehyun had biceps, but didn’t really stick around to argue. He drops into his room to pick up his phone and coat and disappears out the front door, making as minimal noise as possible, feeling a stab of guilt when he hears the door to Taeyong’s room open.

“Have you seen Jaehyun?” comes Taeyong’s voice, soft and worried, and Jaehyun sets off in a random direction at a very dedicated speed.

◬

His goal is one bar of signal, and he gets it, eventually, sort of. He’s half perched on a rock, half falling off a cliff, but he spotted the red light of a cellphone tower in the horizon, obscured by trees, and he scrambled down the incline, more motivated than he’s been in his life.

He Facetimes Yuta, of course he does, Yuta loves Facetiming people, they’ve conducted entire sessions in the toilet while making unflinching eye contact. Jaehyun briefly wonders again if he should have set up more boundaries - but then the call connects.

“Damn, did you tan?” Yuta whistles. 

“I did not tan,” Jaehyun replies. “It’s been nothing but cloudy here all the time.”

“You look darker. And by that I mean, you look like you are an actual person with skin, as opposed to the usual ghostly aesthetic you’ve got going.” Yuta looks well. He should, it’s been less than a week and he’s living his normal life. Frankly, if the only effect of Jaehyun’s time on the mountain is cloudburn, he’s come off lucky.

“Thanks for the update on my skin. I can always count on you to notice the strangest shit about me.”

"It’s only because I’m literally forced to look at your face everyday. I think that if I became blind, there’d be a movie made about my life as a subsequent famous painter and all I’d ever draw is your face, the vision of which has become embedded in the folds of my mind.”

Jaehyun doesn’t attempt to reply, he just lets Yuta talk himself out, and when he stops gazing wistfully into the distance and looks back into the screen, as if he forgot he was having a conversation. “How are you, Jaehyun?”

“Having a crisis. How are you?”

“Living the _fuck_ up. I ordered pizza with pineapple on. I know how much you hate it. I had it _just_ to spite you.” Oh, Yuta really has missed him. It’s very obvious and it’s sort of cute. Yuta stretches out his hand, fluttering the torn curtain in the background, and it’s rather familiar, that particular tear. It’s funny because Jaehyun actually tore his own room curtain in a shaving accident gone horribly wrong. Actually, it’s even the same colour as Jaehyun’s curtain. His brows furrow as he observes the faded cream of the walls, a patch of which has an electrical burn, like the kind that occurs when you accidentally pour beer in an a plug. All in all, the coincidences are too many to be… coincidental. 

“Where are you?” Jaehyun demands.

“Where do you think, dude? It’s your room.” Yuta pans the camera to his bed which very clearly is being occupied by someone inside. God, he hopes they changed the sheets before and after.

“I’m sorry, wait, are you in my room _with_ someone else? The fuck, Yuta, oh my _god_!”

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, listen, my room is so tiny, and yours is so nice and you know, I’ve got _company_. I want to treat him right, you know he deserves a classy time, I’ve wanted a date with Doyoung for ages and long story short, we ended up fucking in the second floor bathroom. So I figured I’d bring him home, you know, _actually_ treat him right. And your room…  it’s so much more enticing. You’ve got those nerd figurines-”

“And so do you! We bought the ‘nerd’ figurines together at the anime con _we_ attended together!” Jaehyun protests.

Yuta laughs but it’s very much directed at Jaehyun’s own displeasure. “Yes, but yours is the _cool_ kind of nerd stuff. It’s all Millennium Falcons and mini Iron Thrones. That’s cool. That’s appealing. Normies like that. I’ve just got a disturbing amount of Bungo Stray Dogs figurines next to my bedside and I don’t think Doyoung even knows what a vocaloid is, and I don’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“God, Yuta, that’s my _bed_ , there’s _things_ there,” Jaehyun whines, temporarily forgetting his own problems when faced with the far larger problem currently Facetiming him, grinning widely.

“Jae, calm down,” Yuta says in that soothing tone of voice he uses on the skittish animals at the veterinary clinic. “All your personal artifacts are neatly packed away and I only looked at the first two pages of your web browsing history on your laptop.”

“Why did you look at _all_?”

Yuta pauses. “I didn’t think you literally just typed ‘boobs’ into PornHub, like honestly Jaehyun, grow up and get a fetish like everyone else.”

“Okay, yeah, I think I’m done with this conversation,” Jaehyun bristles. “I didn’t come to this rock to get insulted.” Then he recalls the figure sleeping in his bed: “Also is that fucking Doyoung in my bed?”

“A little softer Mr Jung, there’s a lovely gentleman sleeping here,” Yuta says, and apparently predicting that Jaehyun’s next step would be to begin yelling, plugs in earphones. “He’s just a good friend, like I was telling you.”

“He’s not a friend. You don’t invite friends to have platonic sleepovers.”

“Yeah, alright, I fucked him in your bed, whatever man, don’t think too much about it, I’ll dry clean your sheets,” Yuta says dismissively, waving his hand. “Anyway, didn’t you say you were done with this conversation?”

Yuta’s voice is choppy and the picture is pixelated but god, if it isn’t good to have some connection to the world outside of Taeyong’s pseudo-cult. Jaehyun is now relatively certain he’d be unable to survive in a Jonestown type scenario, he’d just break out after a week’s abstinence from Instagram. 

 “Fucking hell, Yuta, I can’t deal with this anymore. This expedition was a mistake.”

“What happened? I thought things would get better! You and Taeyong getting along well?”

“I mean, I guess,” Jaehyun begrudgingly admits. “That’s the problem. We’re getting along too well.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem. Let me remind you of what a problem would be, a problem would be if for some reason you had sex with someone in a public bathroom and now the university is threatening you with an indecent exposure disciplinary hearing. That would be a problem.”

Jaehyun stares. “Yuta, I’m not even _getting_ into that with you. Sort your own life out, this is my complaining time.”

“So selfish.”

“Look, the problem is Taeyong is objectively crazy and I keep looking past all the insane things he says, and lately I’m trying to be nicer and he takes that as me agreeing and then he just keeps looking at me with those big fucking eyes and-”

Yuta’s head turns to the side. “And?”

Jaehyun pauses. “I kissed him.”

“Nice.”

“I kissed him quite a bit, not gonna lie.”

“Really nice.”

“He asked me to spit in his mouth.”

“Always the quiet ones that are the most kinky, you know.”

“Yuta, have a fucking reaction, I’ve been freaking out for the past forty minutes over this,” Jaehyun snaps.

“I’m not sure what you want from me! You thought he was hot! He thinks you’re hot! You kissed! What’s the problem with that?” Yuta says.

“It was a _fairly_ heated makeout session.”

“Right, if you’re trying to brag you’re failing because, as I’ve said earlier,” Yuta says, panning his phone to the bed, “I’ve fucked him so hard he can’t move. He’s been rendered catatonic.”

“Isn’t he just sleeping?”

Yuta abruptly turns the phone back to him. “I feel like you’re making this unnecessarily complicated.”

He wasn’t worth the effort Jaehyun expended to find cell reception. He really wasn’t. “I told him to keep quiet so the others won’t hear and he said that the government spies on us through recording devices placed in trees.”

Yuta pauses. In the background, there’s the muffled sound of someone yawning and stretching. “That’s… hmm. Okay, that’s not a _good_ sign. But. I mean, did you _confirm_ there’s no recording devices?”

“ _Yuta_.”

“Look, dude, I don’t know what you want me to say! You can’t separate the hot from the crazy and I think you need to accept that. You don’t get to have this kind sweetheart who’s simultaneously attractive but also isn’t boring.” Yuta pauses, and his eyes drift to the corner of the screen with his own face.

“Can you stop looking at yourself?”

“Just admiring true perfection,” Yuta says, and drags his gaze back to Jaehyun’s.

“I keep thinking I can go along with it, but god Yuta, he just… he just genuinely believes. Like the aliens are fine, even I can sort of get my head around the wendigos but some of the shit he says is just off the hinge and I don’t know if I can do this.”

His phone unhelpfully flashes a low battery warning, to which Jaehyun reflexively gives the finger to.

“God, I didn’t even say anything that time,” Yuta scowls.

“Sorry, it wasn’t directed at you- whatever, it doesn’t matter, just _help me_.” Ideally in about the next twenty seconds, before his phone dies.

“Jaehyun, I don’t know what I can do to help you, you’re currently very far away from me and Taeyong is very near you.” Yuta gives a long suffering sigh - and there’s a muffled voice in the background asking something like “who are you talking to”.

“Don’t worry about it, babe, it’s just a telemarketer. Why don’t you get dressed and we can leave after this,” Yuta turns back to the screen, inhaling deeply. “Okay, right, do you remember last year when I used to smoke cigarettes all the time because all my friends did? But I’d never do it alone.”

“Yes, I do remember that you went through your eighth grade high school experience at the tender age of twenty.”

Yuta glares, but continues. “You joke, but that was basically it. All my friends did and I felt like I had to.”

“Are you trying to explain peer pressure to me?”

“Honestly, yes, yes I am. I’m not saying Taeyong will radically change, but maybe all his views are just being reinforced by being in close proximity to his society. Take him out for a midnight stroll, actually talk to him when it’s just the two of you alone. Have a conversation where no one else is present, where the two of you can just… be. Maybe he’ll actually be a lot more understandable when he’s away from their influence.”

Jaehyun sort of hates Yuta for giving an actual solution to his problem, rather than just tutting sympathetically. Though, in an indirect way, perhaps Yuta was giving Jaehyun the opportunity to reignite the potential of actually having a relationship as opposed to his usual evening activity of searching for ‘boobs’ on PornHub, and then being mocked for it.

“You really are quite thoughtful talking to telemarketers,” the voice in the background says, thick with mirth. “I didn’t even know they started Facetiming.”

“It’s a new thing. They’re just doing their job,” Yuta is quick to reply, and then turns back to the screen. “Alright, uh, thanks but I’m just. Not interested in vacuums at the moment.”

“Go fuck yourself Yuta, but for the love of God, stop doing it on my bed,” Jaehyun sighs.

“Are you going to be done soon, babe?” And a pair of arms wraps around Yuta’s neck, holding him tightly, running over his collarbones.

“And a good day to you too!” Yuta waves.

The last thing Jaehyun hears before the calls ends is the voice saying: “Yuta, who was that sad looking man?”

Jaehyun awkwardly gets to his feet, slipping his phone in his pocket and looks up, and it takes about ten seconds for the braincells in his mind to align and to realize, oh, he actually has no fucking idea where he is, he’s just in the vague street of Trees in the suburb of Mountain.

And of course, he could just call anyone of the loyal members of the Paranormal Society to help him find his way-

If they had phones.

Jaehyun stares down at his feet, inhaling deeply, and starts walking.

◬

“Are you trying to eat that beetle?”

Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear Jungwoo’s melodic voice drift from the trees. “Jungwoo!” he calls, sounding rather distressed.

It’s rather dramatic to be carrying around a flashlight, the sun only set like, ten minutes ago, but the beam of light illuminates Jaehyun in precise detail, down to the current squatting position he was in as he stares at the beetle nest in front of him.

Jungwoo steps down like an angel off a heavenly cloud, shrugging off his outer fleece and handing it to Jaehyun who takes it instantly, rejecting all semblance of dignity. “Hello Jaehyun,” Jungwoo says, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just really cold.” Jaehyun exhales, his breath coming out in vapour. “Thanks for finding me, I was getting worried.”

“Thank goodness you didn’t hear a whistle. You know that would be a sign that a wendigo is about to pounce,” Jungwoo says, his voice so soft, even when he jokes about being murdered and cannibalized.

“Nope, only thing I heard was my own startled breathing.” Jaehyun says. He’s jumping from side to side on the spot, slowly trying to gain warmth in his muscles.

“Were you trying to eat the beetle, though?” Jungwoo persists.

“I was considering it,” Jaehyun replies. “They’re super nutritious, you know? Some kind of superfood. I read an article about it in-”

It was on Buzzfeed.

“Time Magazine,” he finishes. “Yeah.”

Jungwoo is quite possibly the best person in the world, if only because he’s the only one who allows Jaehyun to get away with his lies. “Of course. Come along now, we’ve been worried about you for quite a while.”

“How long was I gone?” Jaehyun says, wrapping himself tighter in Jungwoo’s jacket, grateful for the angel that he was to lend it to him.

“Oh, about six hours. Mark was the one who said you went for a walk, and when you didn’t come back, it seemed quite likely you got lost. Taeyong was quite worried. Made us all split up,” Jungwoo replies, passing Jaehyun a water bottle.

Jaehyun chugs the bottle with such force that water splashes around his mouth. Jungwoo wrinkles his nose at the sloppiness but restrains himself from commenting. “Thanks. I was like, pretty super lost. And you know - wendigo infested woods. Would hate to run into that!” It’s an attempt at diffusing the situation but Jungwoo appears entirely indifferent.

“Why did you go alone in the woods? That’s quite against the rules.”

Jaehyun decides on the truth. Parts of it. “I just really wanted cellphone reception.” He expects another reiteration of ‘that’s against the rules’ but to his own surprise, Jungwoo gives him a rueful smile.

“Alright, I can understand that. My first year here was a little brutal as well, the disconnect from reality takes some getting used to. I put some research into messenger pigeons after it - but by the time next expedition came around, I already sort of enjoyed the silence.”

Jaehyun trudges behind Jungwoo, his mind attempting to process that. Jungwoo fit in so perfectly with Lucas and the rest, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t one of _them_. Or at least - he didn’t used to be.

“Jungwoo, can I ask you something? Off the record.”

“Of course, Jaehyun. It’s not like the trees have surveillance.”

Jaehyun pauses. It’s probably coincidence that he brings it up, it’s not like trees actually have surveillance, right- “How…”

“What do you mean?” Jungwoo replies, looking straight at Jaehyun, smiling broadly.

“Nevermind.”

He requires a gulp of water for both dehydration and courage before he works up the nerve to just ask Jungwoo directly: “Did you always… believe? Or was it because of Lucas?”

Jungwoo doesn’t answer immediately. “Well Jaehyun, if you’re asking on the basis of comparing me to you, that’s perhaps not the wisest decision. I don’t think you’d believe it was raining until you felt your skin being soaked.”

If it’s an insult, it’s perhaps the most polite one he’s ever heard.

“I wouldn’t say I believe unreservedly, but I will say it’s not _difficult_ to see where he’s coming from. It doesn’t mean he’s right, but I can sort of get why he thinks that,” Jungwoo says, stepping around a fallen tree, already decaying.

“So you agree that some of the things this society believes is a little…” Jaehyun trails off, unsure of a suitable word choice.

“Of course, Jaehyun, I’ve heard Taeyong and Lucas genuinely discuss whether Avril Lavigne was replaced with a clone. I’d hardly invite them to dinner parties, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

Jaehyun exhales, letting a breath he’s been holding since he walked up the mountain.  “So I’m not alone. You agree?”

“I mean, I’m here of my own volition, remember that.”

Their footsteps are the only sound now. It’s getting increasingly dark, and Jaehyun has to increase his pace to keep up with Jungwoo’s strides. Their surroundings are becoming more familiar now, these particular trees resembling the ones he sees when he stares out his bedroom window.

“Jaehyun, I won’t say that one day you’ll wake up and you’ll magically realize that everything Taeyong says is true and that you’ll stop being a ‘cog in the capitalist machine’. But I will say that he’s a good person. He’s sweet. He cares a lot. And you know that I really don’t think there’s wendigos in these woods, but when Lucas asks me, I’m going to say I heard a whistle in the far off distance. And it’ll probably make his entire night.” Jungwoo pauses. “I like seeing him happy, Jaehyun. And if it’s _this_ easy? Well, that’s hardly a choice then.”

They’re outside the cabin door and Jaehyun just stares. “I can’t believe you’ll just lie-”

Jungwoo lifts his index finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. “Careful now. We’re getting into tree territory.”

That was the second time he made a reference to that, but it can’t be, it’s not possible, there’s no actual recording devices-

“I know Taeyong’s convinced the government monitors him, but you people are forgetting how effective the surveillance is of literally just walking past an open window.” Jungwoo says, opening the door.

“...Did you see-?”

“Oh, of course not,” Jungwoo says, walking inside, dropping his coat off at the door. “I definitely didn’t find out that our President enjoys being spit on. The only thing I saw tonight was that flash of inhuman figure accompanied by that high-pitched whistle in the distance. Do you remember it?”

The only person in the lounge is Mark, in the same spot as he was literally several hours earlier, and he’s observing them both with interest.

“Yeah, god it was so scary, I wonder what it was,” Jaehyun replies. He grins at Mark. “I’m back. Made it alive!”

“Can’t believe you had a gay panic attack and then ran into the woods to die,” Mark says, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“That’s really not what happened-” Jaehyun begins.

Jungwoo intervenes, halting what would probably be an extended argument with no actual resolution. “Go take a shower, Jaehyun. I need to go find the others and notify them that we found you.”

“Oh, I can help with that!”

“You could,” Jungwoo says gently. “But you also smell like beetle. So I’d strongly recommend the shower.”

◬

Jaehyun will later consider it a great show of personal strength that he didn't jack it in the shower that night.

If he ever retold the incident, he'd claim it was because he didn't want to succumb to his carnal urges or perhaps because he had to much respect for Taeyong and the fledgling interest they showed in each other - but it was mostly because Jaehyun didn't want to clog up the shower drain with spunk and _really_ didn’t want to be caught jacking it by Taeyong’s little brother. He was the only one that showered that day. It would be too obvious if something happened. He didn't want awkward questions.

He wraps a towel around his lower half and enters his room, and upon noticing the figure of Mark napping on his bed, screams but only a little and in quite a dignified way.

“The fuc- I mean, what are you doing in here?” Jaehyun says, covering his bare nipples with his hand.

“Okay right, sure go ahead, cover your modesty, I really don't care, I think you're more my brother's type than my own,” Mark snorts, sitting up. “And, what a coincidence, that's exactly why I'm here. Because you've proven that you cannot control yourself and have sullied the room that I shared with my brother.”

“We didn't do _anything!_ ” Jaehyun says as a protest. Jaehyun’s never said anything more true in his life, if Jaehyun had actually _done_ anything, he’d feel a _lot_ better. At least he’d have the memory of a particularly fine orgasm to keep him going in these stressful times.

“Anything?” Mark challenges and Jaehyun falters under his gaze.

“There weren't any fluids,” he finishes.

“Right, that's more than I ever needed to know,” Mark scowls. “We're swapping rooms. Take your booty short boxers and your contact lens case and leave me alone.”

Jaehyun does consider arguing - but also had no actual defense. There was _some_ level of inappropriate interaction in the bedroom, and he’d rather not elaborate it in details.  And he sort of reasoned that if the roles were reversed, he probably wouldn't want to sleep in that bed either.

Not that he wants to sleep in that bed in his current incarnation either.

“They’re not booty short boxers,” Jaehyun mutters to himself, picking them from where they lie on the floor.

“Then why do they say 'Juicy’ on the back?”

And he's had quite enough of Mark's questions, and he leaves the room, one hand holding up his towel, and the other with his belongings.

◬

Jaehyun sleeps shirtless. He likes sleeping shirtless, sort of feel like it's his God given right. In the dead of winter, when the mucus of his nose threatens to freeze, he'll put on three extra blankets and still refuse to be shackled by the constraints of a shirt.

But the thing is, he sleeps alone.

And now he sort of isn't.

He's not sleeping in Taeyong's room, he'll prefer taking his chances with the damn wendigo because at least the wendigo won’t ask him to spit in his mouth and suck on his collarbones.

But that means taking his chances on the lumpy sleeper couch in the common area, and he's not sure if the other people in attendance of the house will appreciate the sight of his nipples if they get a midnight snack. Though, honestly, he just doesn't want to be shirtless in front of Taeyong. (Unless, you know, Taeyong takes off the shirt himself. Then it's fair game.)

So, Jaehyun attempts to unravel the complexities of this situation while he puts on his boxers. He figures it’s best to lay the facts out:

  1. Taeyong is incredibly, incredibly hot.
  2. But he’s also really sweet. His eyes light up with passion everytime he talks. He loves his family, even if his brother is a demon. He loves his friends, even if they’re arguably as weird as he is.
  3. He’s crazy. He’s objectively crazy. He seems to think the moon isn’t real, thinks that chemtrails are, and currently is in the middle of a hunt for cannibalistic zombies.
  4. They kissed. A lot. Like, sort of more than was probably necessary. There was also some spit. And he was really into that.



Jaehyun doesn’t feel any better after sorting those facts out. In fact he sort of feels worst. In all that goes on, he's forgotten that the whole point of this journey was to find wendigos which, as Jaehyun needs to repeat to himself like a nightly prayer, _aren't real_.

He flops down and attempts to join the intimate union of ratty blanket and lumpy couch. Something similar to a boulder or a small child presses into his spine from the stuffing in the couch. His bed was by no means anything comfortable, but this was a downgrade to another degree.

Mark didn't even give him his extra blankets. Just left him to die in the cold. Whatever. The lights are already off but it looks like someone was kind enough to keep the heat on - Jungwoo, probably, worried Jaehyun might succumb to his overexposure.

Which he might. If he's lucky.

◬

“Be quiet!” Jungwoo whispers, and it’s in such a soft voice that the only reason Jaehyun even hears it was because, roughly fifteen seconds earlier, Lucas burst in the room yelling: “Man, do you think there’s anymore bread left?”

“Lucas!” Jungwoo chides. “Come on, just get the water and let’s go back to bed. Taeyong’s room is just around the corner and you _know_ he’s a light sleeper.”

“Don’t worry about Taeyong, man, he’s tired himself out,” Lucas says. The particular way in which the cabin is laid out, means that you have to enter the kitchen through the lounge. Still though, the kitchen is a whole separate room. It’s sort of impressive really, that they were literally in a completely different room but he spoke with such _volume_ that Jaehyun could have been standing right next to him.

Jaehyun turns to his other side, making as many shuffling noises as possible as a sort of passive-aggressive reminder that hey, there was someone _trying_ to sleep here. There’s a muffled giggle, and they lower their voices for about a minute before Lucas starts talking in his usual register.

“Do you want some toast?” Lucas asks, and there’s the creak of the breadbin being opened.

“Not particularly.”

“I’ll cut off the crust for you,” he offers.

Jaehyun assumes Jungwoo finds this touching, because there’s a pause followed by the sound of a gentle kiss. Cute, really, objectively cute - but also Jaehyun’s getting progressively more and more awake the more time they spend in the kitchen. He hears the toaster being used as the lever’s set down and Jaehyun finds relief in this - at least now there’s a definitive time limit to how long they’re going to be there: as long as it takes to make toast, which is at a maximum, about three minutes.

What Jaehyun did not account for was that they’d spend the time it takes to brown the bread by kissing. At first he thought the heavy breathing was a result of impromptu push-ups which entirely seemed like a plausible thing for Lucas to do at ass o’clock, but then he heard a high-pitched whimper that sounded an awful lot like Jungwoo and it didn’t take too long for Jaehyun’s sleep addled brain to connect the dots.

Perhaps he’s a little grumpy that kitchen makeout sessions were not his and Taeyong’s exclusive couple’s activity. And then perhaps he gets a little pissed at himself for thinking of himself and Taeyong as a couple. Perhaps he does both of this at the same time, and then he finds himself distracted by a particularly loud moan coming from the kitchen.

“Not here!” Jungwoo whispers, breathing laboured.

“Why not?”

Jaehyun’s tempted to answer this himself but he now realizes if he wanted to draw attention to his presence, he probably should have done it when they first walked through. If he did it now, he’d just be outing himself as some kind of voyeur which was quite far from the truth, he preferred to maintain his image of Jungwoo as some gentle soul who had a penchant for umbrellas in his drinks, not some deviant who gets dicked down next to the toaster.  He makes a mental note to wipe down the kitchen tomorrow morning. Between his activities and the ones of Jungwoo and Lucas, they’re asking for a cabin-wide spread of HPV. The toaster resounds around the kitchen as it pops out the bread and Jaehyun sort of gets his wish because they leave after that, giggling as they walk straight past him, hand in hand.

But the smell of bread lingers and Jaehyun just feels sort of jealous, lonely and really in the mood for toast.

 

 The acrid smell of smoke awakens the primal part of his mind and Jaehyun instantly opens his eyes, jumping off the ragged couch, searching for the source of the fire, ready to extinguish it with his bare hands if he must.

A quick scan determines there’s no fire, no, instead there’s the hunched figure of Mark in the kitchen trying to light a cigarette with matches, and failing miserably. He’s got a growing pile of spent matchsticks next to him and he seems to feel a gaze on him because he looks up, and when he locks glances with Jaehyun with his wide eyes and curly bedhead he resembles something like an alarmed llama. The familial resemblance in clear in times like these.

“Fucking hell, what are you doing here?” Mark says, surreptitiously slipping the cigarette under the fruit bowl.

“I’m… sleeping here,” Jaehyun says, shaking his head. His bones protest at the loss of his makeshift bed as he leans against the doorframe for support. “You know this.”

“No, you’re sleeping with my brother,” he says and then recoils. “Okay, not like that, but-”

“I’m _not_ sleeping with your brother in any possible meaning of that sentence!”

It’s hard to make out the finer details of Mark’s expression in the dim lighting of the singular candle that remains lit.

“Are you allowed to smoke?” Jaehyun asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” Mark answers.

Jaehyun doesn’t reply and Mark pulls the fruit bowl closer. “It’s just one. Don’t tell Taeyong. Look, you know how he is, he’ll freak out.”

That doesn’t seem like a conspiracy theorist thing - that seems like an older brother sort of thing.

“Why are you even smoking, it’s the middle of the fucking night?” Jaehyun asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“There’s got to be other ways to get to sleep than smoking.”

“Oh, of course, you’re right, I’ll just go on Youtube and watch hot British chicks do ASMR to fall back asleep - oh wait, yes, there’s that problem where _there’s no internet here_ ,” Mark finishes off in a sort of yell but in a reserved way. Jaehyun admires his restraint. 

“That’s how you fall asleep?” Jaehyun asks.

“How do _you_ fall asleep?”

He jacked off mostly, but if that didn’t work he’d go for classic method of counting sheep. “I read books.” Manga. It’s manga.

“Jaehyun, just let me have a smoke. It’s like, freezing outside. I’m not disturbing anyone. Just… go back to your couch and pretend you didn’t see me.” There’s a pleading tone in Mark’s voice. “It’s rough spending so much time with all of you losers. You just make me feel so sorry that you all like this. Give me this much.”

Jaehyun doesn’t appreciate being called a loser, but also figures telling on him to his brother is literal loser behaviour.  He sighs and turns around, and he falls asleep to the sound of Mark discarding matches.

◬

This time when Jaehyun hears footsteps, all his patience disappeared which was more than could be said for the cloud of smoke that Mark left behind, casting a foul smelling odor across the house.

“What the fuck is wrong now?” Jaehyun swears, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he sits up. “Can you just fucking eat your toast and smoke your damn cigarettes in the fucking morning?”

Taeyong is staring at him with wide eyes. There’s a stabbing pain in his heart and Jaehyun first thinks it’s a heart attack and then figures out it’s because Taeyong is wearing an oversized shirt and has strands of red hair falling over his forehead and it’s ridiculously adorable. So worse than a heart attack, pretty much.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry!” Taeyong apologizes, fidgeting with his fingers. “I didn’t know anyone was sleeping here! I thought you and Mark were sharing or something, he just packed his pyjamas and left earlier. Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I’m sorry for yelling,” Jaehyun is quick to assuage any guilt that Taeyong feels. “I didn’t know it would be you.”

“I didn’t know it would be you either.” Taeyong looks at him, and smiles.

Jaehyun clears his throat before he does something stupid like fall in love. “What are you doing up?”

“I had trouble sleeping since I smelled Mark’s cigarette,” Taeyong says softly. “He’s getting better at hiding it, but I could still tell by the smoke, and you know, I’m a light sleeper.”

“I heard something like that. You know that he smokes?”

“Of course I do. He’s not exactly subtle. It’s just a phase, though, I’m not too worried.” Taeyong’s laughter is light and airy in the quiet room. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine, really.” Taeyong’s got his shoes on, the hiking boots he wears when they go walking. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I thought I’d go out and check the traps - more likely, though, I’ll probably just go and look at the stars by the lake.” He hesitates. “They’re quite beautiful up here without all the lights from the city and it’s finally warm enough to go outside at night.”

“Can I come with?” Jaehyun asks. “If you want company. You know. For safety?”

Taeyong’s eyes sparkle. “Oh. Oh I’d really like that.”

Jaehyun tries to justify it in his head. It’s exactly what Yuta suggested, spending time with him away from the influences of the others - but truthfully, Jaehyun had not even considered Yuta when he asked. He just wanted to spend more time with this sleepy, unmade Taeyong who spoke softer than normal and was dwarfed by his own clothes.

◬

Mirror Lake was one of about fifty thousand Mirror Lakes in the country, if not the world. There was nothing particularly unique about this Mirror Lake in particular, in fact it may only be noticeable by its averageness. From the way it curved around the outline of the forest, to the way the water reflected the pale moonlight, to the velvety hyacinth layered on top like a blanket, Mirror Lake was the most generic lake Jaehyun had ever seen. It was the Walmart of lakes.

But it was beautiful.

It was undoubtedly beautiful, the moon reflected in it, bathing the lake in a soft white glow. With light footsteps, Taeyong wandered towards the bank, careful not to step on any of the water lilies. There’s faint mist rolling in from the distance, but it doesn’t disturb the perfect reflection of the surrounding trees.

“You can swim here, can’t you?” Jaehyun asks, following close behind.

“I’d think it’s a bit too cold for that, Jaehyun, and I didn’t bring my swimming trunks,” Taeyong says with a wry smile.

“Oh, I didn’t mean-”

“We’ll come back during the summer most likely,” Taeyong says, tracing a pattern in the ground with the toe of his boot. “It depends on the water people.”

“The aquaculture students?”

“Mmm. I met one of them two years back, Sorn, and she was monitoring the chemical balance in the lake. Apparently the water hyacinth is like, super bad for the lake and it’s killing everything in it and around it.” Taeyong points to the halcyon blanket of green. “When it grows out of control, it forms a layer on the top and it just suffocates whatever’s unfortunate enough to be trapped underneath and dies.”

Jaehyun blinks. “They look pretty though, don’t they?”

“Yeah. They do.”

Lilac flowers peak out, unaffected by the moonlight, swaying towards Taeyong as if interested in his conversation. They don’t look deadly at all - little calm flashes of purple in an otherwise neutral palette of forest.

Taeyong looks at Jaehyun, a subdued smile on his lips. “Careful when you sit down, the ground’s a little wet with the morning dew.”

He attempts to wipe the stray leaves before he sits down, but he still feels dampness permeate through his pants and sighs. Taeyong is already sitting cross legged, eyes fixed on the sky above. It’s probably the first night since they’ve arrived that clouds were uninvited from the night’s party, and the result is fluorescent stars, sparkling above, stretching far beyond his field of vision.

 “It’s not like the city at all, is it?”

“No,” Jaehyun says. The sheer amount of stars dotting the sky is exhilarating, and he can’t begin to pick out patterns or constellations, he can only stare up in wonder. “This is kind of… fucking incredible.”

There’s a muffled giggle. “That’s one way to put it.”

The only sight that could distract Jaehyun from the stars is the grin Taeyong has. Jaehyun thinks he might be able to relate to the lake, being once entirely open, now almost being suffocated under the growth of affection that spreads across him, smothering him.

And, just like the hyacinth, it is quite stunning.

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun says hesitantly, words hesitant, as if he’s the one with purple flowers blocking his mouth. “Why did you start this society?”

The smile fades and a darkness settles. “Did Mark tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me a lot. But he mentioned some things.”

He can feel the subtle way in which Taeyong tenses up next to him, hand unconsciously rubbing against his right leg. “It’s not a secret, it’s just… it’s not something I like talking about.”

“You can tell me.”

Taeyong’s fingers tangle into wet grass, twisting it and twisting it around in his fingers. “I got into UNCT on a dance scholarship. I was a dance major. You know, I worked really hard for it, put my all into it ever since I was fourteen. And then about two months into my first year, I was just being reckless and overworking myself and there was an accident, and I- well, I broke my leg.”

“Oh shit, that’s a bit heavy.” Jaehyun then decides that was quite possibly the worst thing he could have ever said. It might have been nicer to just break his other leg.

“It was bad. I was in hospital for months and I spent pretty much the whole year living at home. I know Mark is a bit of a handful nowadays, but you know, back then he really did use to do _everything_ for me. I couldn’t even stand up without his help.”

Jaehyun tries to reconcile this information of Mark with his current perception. It doesn’t seem to fit, the caring younger sibling versus the relentlessly mocking entity he was now.

“It was probably really lame for him to spend his afternoons with me watching documentaries and classic sci-fi movies but he did anyway, and he never made me feel like it was a burden. I know I let him get away with a lot of things, but I can’t really tell him not to.” The band of grass curls up Taeyong’s wrist like a bracelet.

“What about your scholarship?” Jaehyun asks. “They understood it was an accident, right?”

“They were generous. They told me they’d give me a year off to recover. Then, a year passed and I was pretty much still unable to dance because I just had surgery, and they gave me another year, and then my doctor told me on the operating table of my second surgery I should probably consider a new career path. And now I’m just,” the words struggle to fall out of Taeyong’s mouth, “Killing time until that runs out. Till they really kick me out, till they stop paying the tuition for me to do nothing but show up to English class and run this Society. And then I’ll probably drop out and donate my body to science or something.”

“Taeyong, don’t do that,” Jaehyun says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t _say_ that.”

The grass snaps, torn by Taeyong’s own forceful grip.

“I don’t _have_ anything else I can do, Jaehyun, I don’t have anything I’m remotely good at besides dancing and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I kept on at it I’d end up in a wheelchair before I’m thirty. And believe me, I wouldn’t have minded but…” Taeyong’s gaze is occupied by the cabin behind them. “I have to think of Mark as well. I can’t just live as a burden on my brother’s life, even though it feels like I am one generally. The only thing I even have is this Society.” Taeyong’s eyes glassen and Jaehyun is not prepared if he cries, quite sure that if Taeyong cries, he’ll cry too. 

“Taeyong…”

“The only thing I have is this Society, and you don’t even believe in anything about this Society! You don’t believe in anything, Jaehyun, I know you don’t, it’s not just you being a skeptical observer or whatever, you just… _don’t_.”

“Then tell me, Taeyong, tell me why you believe.” Because Jaehyun would love to know why, he’d love to know what threads Taeyong sees that Jaehyun can’t. “The aliens, the government, the Illuminati, just try to make me _understand_.”

“Days blur together,” Taeyong says, eyebrows furrowed. “You know when it’s summer and you spend all day in this cycle of relaxation that you lose track of when it was Monday and when it’s Sunday and all days just feel like Thursday? It’s kinda like that, except there’s never a Sunday, there’s just that repetitive unknown Thursday. Gives you a lot of free time. Too much, actually. So much so that you can’t begin to remember when it began or when it ends.”

He turns to face Jaehyun, holding up three fingers. “It was morphine at first, in the morning, that one was my favourite, always put me in a good mood for the rest of the day, made me feel all tingly inside. Then eventually, after my first surgery, I moved onto acetaminophen which was much less interesting but at least I got to take it more often. I got moved back onto morphine but then, _regrettably,_ they cut me off and just put me on ibuprofen.” His fingers sway when a breeze brushes through the trees. “That’s the only way I could really measure time back then, by which pain medication I had most recently taken. And all of it, _all of it_ , was meticulously regulated. I had no control over my own body or what went into it.”

Taeyong’s fingers abruptly retract, and he shudders, as if he hadn’t meant to think about that, as if he wanted to push the memories back where they came from. “It’s such a lack of control. It’s like I wasn’t even a person, I was just some sort of device that had to be filled up. It’s sort of a cathartic thought that we’re all just under the illusion of free will, that maybe the government _does_ actually control everything and nothing you do can do _anything_ , you’re just that unimportant.” 

His words prickle under Jaehyun’s skin, instantly rejecting the notion that there’s some unknowing force forcing him to do anything, because that’s not what happens, it isn’t. And even if it was, does it really make a difference?

Taeyong dabs at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and when he speaks, his voice cracks. “Is it so bad to look out at the night sky and wish there was more? You know Jaehyun, I had such a ridiculous amount of meaningless hours in the day and I used to spend that watching videos about the Illuminati and going on the deep web, but what was I supposed to do during the nights, when the television was switched off, when Mark was sleeping next to me but my pain medication just kept me wide awake? I used to just stare into the sky like right now.”

Jaehyun can imagine a younger Taeyong doing exactly this, sitting on the dirty ground, eyes fixed on the stars. It suits him in an abstract way, Taeyong whose beliefs are out of this world having an obsession with stars suspended in space, millions of lightyears away.

“I used to just stare, and it’s humbling, honestly. Everything that we do, everything we are in this world is just a tiny speck, everything up there is _bigger_ than us, _better_ than us and we're just… we’re just so insignificant. Perhaps I just want to believe that maybe there _is_ something out there that is significant, something bigger than me, something that's important and that'll make everything else worthwhile.”

Jaehyun thinks of the poster on his ceiling, the ‘I WANT TO BELIEVE’ he looks at before he goes to sleep. Wonders if perhaps there’s a deeper reason as to why it’s on the ceiling rather than on the walls.

“Is it so bad to be so, so lonely to just want there to be something out there, something to make everything seem less lonely?”

Jaehyun’s heart fractures. “Are you lonely?”

“I think we all are a bit lonely, Jaehyun.” Taeyong lifts his head to look up at the stars and moonlight shines on his face.

With a careful movement, Jaehyun shifts closer, and resting his hand on top of Taeyong’s, he entwines their fingers. Taeyong doesn’t look at him, but squeezes, leaving no space for anything else to come between.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun answers truthfully, cannot find it in himself to manufacture a lie.

“I sometimes think I am too. Sometimes I just think I see the world a bit too clearer than everyone else. But I think when we met, you would have answered with an outright ‘yes’.”

“You’d be right about that.” Jaehyun should probably be concerned with the speed at which his own beliefs are crumbling around him, because now he’s thinking about time and the universe and life out there and when he gets back home, he’s got a lot to think about, a lot to talk about...

But right now he’s content to enjoy the feel of Taeyong’s hand tangled in his own, a warm presence at his side, staring out at what he decides is the most beautiful lake he’s ever seen.

Taeyong rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder, and on reflex, Jaehyun wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer. He’s small, nestled against Jaehyun like this, the fluff of his hair rubbing against Jaehyun’s chin. Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever been less lonely in his life.

“Those stars really are beautiful, aren’t they? And to think, each and every one is a Russian surveillance satellite.”

Jaehyun suppresses a smile, eyes on their distorted reflection in the water. “Yeah. They are.”

Hyacinth is beautiful, Hyacinth is beautiful even as it smothers an entire lake and it’s the most beautiful when it engulfs everything beneath its surface.

◬

Backmasking is a technique in recording wherein a particular hidden message is recorded backwards onto a song that’s intended to be played forwards, thus ‘masking’ it. It’s deliberate, it’s meticulous and it’s apparent evidence that Sir Paul McCartney of the Beatles died in 1966 and is part of an elaborate cover-up.

In a way, Jaehyun can kind of understand the obsession with backmasking. There’s a certain pleasure to be derived in releasing something to the world but including something secret, meant for just the few worthy.

Jaehyun thinks Taeyong’s backmasked. Thinks that played forward he’s just a quirky, mildly paranoid conspiracy theorist that people would skip. Thinks that played backwards he’s so much more, he’s quiet, he’s shy, he’s a good cook, he loves his family more than words can describe, and that he’s lost. He’s lonely. He looks up at the night sky and wishes that someone or something looks back.

 Jaehyun wonders what other hidden messages are under Taeyong’s skin, Jaehyun wonders if he’ll find out. Hopes he will.

It’s not a conscious decision, he doesn’t walk inside and regretfully part hands with Taeyong, exchanging a shy smile until he closes his room door, and then decides he’s going to stop being awful.

It’s just - when Taeyong calls them for breakfast that morning, it’s the second to last day before they leave and Lucas is excitedly telling everyone about this ring of underground contract killers in the deep web and Jaehyun doesn’t roll his eyes into his mashed potato. He’s quiet, listening carefully, and every so often his knee knocks with Taeyong, and they share a look and smile. Mark retches.

 ◬

It’s payback, Jaehyun thinks, it’s Taeyong’s personal form of payback. It’s the only explanation as to why he’s currently hiking _up_ the mountain, fighting a losing battle against gravity, struggling to keep his breathing steady while Taeyong walks effortlessly, like he’s crossing clouds.

In Jaehyun’s defense he was attempting to be cute. When he saw Taeyong sneak out of the cabin, waiting until he was outdoors to fasten his boots, closing the door with far more care than necessary - Jaehyun had been outside on the deck, reading one of Mark’s MAD magazines and called out to him, perhaps a bit louder than he should have, but in his defense the forest really does _carry_ sound.

Taeyong had literally jumped in shock which was, as expected, _hilarious_. With obvious hesitation, Taeyong had explained that he was doing a ‘surveillance check’ on some of the traps and that he didn’t require the presence of anyone else. While posing against one of the supporting beams, framing his face with his hands, Jaehyun offered his company.

“For safety, you know?”

Taeyong had suppressed a laugh and said: “Jaehyun, it’s really not necessary.”

“Isn’t it a rule? You did say we shouldn’t go into the woods alone.” 

“I did say that,” Taeyong had said through clenched teeth.

And Jaehyun who never really was the self-reflective type, hadn’t thought too deeply on why Taeyong had wanted to go somewhere alone and was just looking forward to spending time with him in the few hours that remained of their time in the mountains.

He regrets that now.

Taeyong hadn’t told him where they were going, but it was far higher than before, higher than any of the traps that were set, and he seemed to offer no explanation for this.

“Air’s a bit thin here, isn’t it?” Jaehyun says, pulling his coat tighter, wishing he’d brought his earmuffs.

“We _are_ quite high up. Not far left to go. Though, if you want to go back it’s just a straight walk down.”

Jaehyun looks over his shoulder, and a rush of vertigo hits him. The cabin is entirely obscured by the forest, and the steepness of the slope he ascends threatens to pull him down if he missteps. It’s still daylight but the claustrophobia that prickles at his skin suggests that it may as well have been midnight.

And the whistling.

It’s probably just the way in which the wind blows through the gaps in the nearby caves, but there’s constant whistling, and it’s sort of terrifying because Jaehyun can’t get the thought out of his head that warns him that wendigos use whistling to lure their prey. And they aren’t real - _but if they were_ , here would be a good place to hunt. A place to make a meal out of a twenty-two year old Math major with a fondness for pancakes and the kind of meaty flesh that comes with such a fondness.

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun begins, “are you trying to get rid of me?”

He hesitates before answering, and the whistling gets sharper with a particular gust of wind, and a part of Jaehyun wonders if Taeyong was going to strand him here, leaving him as bait for wendigos in the pursuit of evidence. Was he about to get murdered? There has never been a better place for hiding a body than up here.

“Not at all, Jaehyun. I’m just… not used to having people with me when I’m up here. But I’ve thought about it, and I think you deserve to know. I’ve told you so much… I feel like I should tell you this. That’s why I’ve brought you with - even if it changes things between us,” Taeyong says, and now he definitely sounds like he’s going to murder Jaehyun.

“Is there anything I should know?” Jaehyun asks mildly. Should he get his affairs in order? Does Yuta know he’s _not_ automatically entitled to everything he owns, despite what Jaehyun may have drunkenly promised some years ago.

“We’re almost there.”

 

‘Almost there’ translates to another half an hour of walking, and the reward for the physical exertion is their arrival at what looks like a miniature version of the Fuck House. The Fuck Cottage, if you will.

It’s considerably smaller, and considerably more dilapidated, with the windows boarded up and the complete absence of any sign of life.

“We’re here,” Taeyong says, tugging his crimson scarf lower.

“Is this like… your holiday _holiday_ house? For when you get tired of the actual holiday house?”

Taeyong stares at Jaehyun and then walks forward to the door. The path he’s treading is overgrown, iced over in places, and Taeyong’s footsteps are small to avoid slipping. He knocks twice, his fingers resounding against the wood. “Jaehyun, remember when we had the first meeting. And you brought up the moon landing?”

An awkward laugh is coughed out. Jaehyun was _quite_ familiar with that. “Yes. You don’t believe in the moon.”

“I… I was lying.”

Jaehyun figures he should gasp, so he does, and even though the action was delayed by a few seconds, it seems to fit Taeyong’s expectation. At this point the only honest person in the Paranormal Society is Lucas, and that just seems to be because the idea of lying had never even occurred to him.

“I’ve had to pretend that I think that because the truth of the matter is… well, the truth is staggering.” The handle turns. Paint chips off the door, falling to the ground. “And you’re about to find out.”

A very nice-looking man with neatly combed brown hair unlocks the door and steps out. “Oh, Taeyong! I’ve been waiting for you!” he says, and Jaehyun waits for some sign that this normal looking man is anything but normal.

Taeyong visibly gulps. “Hi there, Taeil.” He turns to Jaehyun. “I’d like you to meet the Moon.”

◬

Moon Taeil, the nice-looking man, is a nice man. He lives in a small cottage. When they enter, he’s kind enough to put the kettle on and makes three cups of odd-tasting tea. He’s got the head of a bear on a plaque above his bookshelf, and he offers them unwrapped sugarcubes. It’s almost a normal house for murderers and the Unabomber, if not for the giant ceramic ball, painted white, positioned in the center of the table they sit around.

“So, you’re the Moon?” Jaehyun clarifies. “Like the actual Moon?”

“Mmm. Somewhat. I’m _related_. I was going through a bad breakup and things were a bit rough,” Taeil says, stirring his tea. “I’ve decided to come up here, and perform my pilgrimage. This mountain, so close to the Lunar Goddess herself… it allows me to get in touch with my roots.

“And your roots… are the Moon?”

“Yes. It’s my family name. Of course it is.”

“So you’re some sort of…?” Jaehyun tries to name the particular brand of shared delusion these two have settled on. “Representative?”

“I think of him as a sort of disciple of the Moon,” Taeyong says. He’s been staring at Taeil reverently ever since he walked in, and Jaehyun’s trying not to feel jealous of a man who thinks he’s the son of a luminary body - but god, Taeyong’s never looked that way at _him_. “It was entirely by chance we met a few years ago. I was lost in the woods, injured of course, I hadn’t yet recovered from my surgery despite my persistence that I had… I went out alone, foolishly. It was so cold and dark… and then he appeared, like out of moonlight.”

Taeil sips on his tea, giving a modest nod as if saving lives was just part of his job description of Moon Disciple. “I felt there was something in the air that night, calling me to you.”

Taeyong gazes at him, rapturously. “He let me stay here for the night and told me about who he was and who he represented - and ever since I’ve made a point to come here every year to see him.”

“Do the others know?” Jaehyun asks.

“No. I don’t think they’d understand, truthfully. Taeil’s intimate relationship with the moon is one that can only be comprehended by unique individuals. They would ask too much of him, they wouldn’t know the _burden_ that comes with having a telepathic link to the Moon.”

Jaehyun drinks from his tea, both hands holding the cup. It’s a test, he reasons. This is it. This is the pinnacle of Taeyong’s beliefs. If he can tolerate this, he can tolerate anything, and he can proceed to having a happily forever ever with his new boyfriend. All he has to do is pass this test. You can’t get any _lower_ than the Moon has a son and his name is Taeil and he uses three sugars in his tea.

Taeil smiles placidly. Jaehyun notices that one of his ears are pierced. A small white gem hangs from it. “You must be important to Taeyong to be worthy of this information.”

Jaehyun sees the way in which Taeyong stares at him, adoringly. “He is,” Taeyong says, running his hand along Jaehyun’s arm. Fuck him. No one should be that sweet and insane at the same time.

“I’m sure Lucas would believe you,” Jaehyun says, trying to avoid staring at the giant ceramic ball which he now realizes, oh, is a model of the Moon. Because that’s a normal centerpiece that every good Christian household should have this Thanksgiving.

“Oh, undoubtedly. But he’d harass Taeil for information about the Moon, he’d try and use his powers of telepathy for personal gain… it’s too risky. Better to keep it as a secret.”

“ _Telepathy_ , you say,” Jaehyun repeats, because he let the word slide the first time it was mentioned and he can’t do it again.

“Oh yes. Taeil is telepathic. He can read minds.”

“ _He can read minds_?” Jaehyun repeats, and his voice raises an octave a second.

Taeyong gestures to Taeil who nods. Taking a moment to stroke the circular pendant around his neck, he stares at Jaehyun, forcing unblinking eye contact. It’s disorientating to say the least. “You’re a man of great doubt.”

“You’re right about that,” Jaehyun snorts.

“You didn’t shower today.”

He didn’t. But he could have picked up on that just because Jaehyun reeked after having climbed half a mountain in an afternoon.

“You’ve drifted through life with no purpose, but I think you know that, you’ve chosen to live like this. I think that you’re starting to awaken. That you realize there’s more to the world than there’s always been. You’ve seen it all this time, but you’ve never thought to step into it.”

Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably, dropping his gaze from Taeil’s piercing eyes to his red parka.

“And,” Taeil says, looking between Jaehyun and Taeyong. “I sense great affection between the two of you. A blooming romance, one built on mutual tenderness, one that can only grow.”

A snarky comment is on the tip of Jaehyun’s tongue, and then he sees the way Taeyong’s eyes light up with those words. He admires Jaehyun, a dopey grin upon his face.

And Jaehyun, too soft for his own good, too deep already, turns to Taeil and says: “How did you know? You were right about everything.”

Taeil leans back in the chair, triumphant. “The Moon has bestowed on me many gifts.”

He feels a hand squeeze his knee and looks up to see Taeyong’s smile. So, he’s passed the test. Apparently he can handle the son of the Moon. He’s in this thing for good. He’s willing to look past everything else.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” Taeyong says to Taeil, still rubbing Jaehyun’s knee. “I was quite preoccupied with him, I won’t lie.” It makes it sound all very scandalous, especially with the way Taeyong’s voice lowers, when in reality there was just a lot of sitting in the lounge with Jungwoo and Lucas, listening to Abbey Road in reverse while ignoring the sexual tension radiating off himself and Taeyong.

“I was expecting you earlier,” Taeil says, shaking his head. “I had worried I’d missed you this year, I even went down the mountains to check - when I saw the cameras, I knew though, and I waited for you to come. I knew you would. The Moon told me.”

Jaehyun ignores the latter part of the sentence and focuses on: the cameras?

“Taeil, did you, uh, happen to knock one over?” Jaehyun asks through gritted teeth.

“It is possible that in my confusion at being far from my power source I might have been disorientated,” Taeil says, eyeing the orb with interest. “But, you know, I’m sure you sorted it out.”

Taeil is a short man, not particularly built - mentally, Jaehyun matches him to the figure recorded on the camera, the one that Lucas insisted was a wendigo, that had even Jaehyun stumped. Which was obviously now: Taeil.

Jaehyun purses his lips, laying his hand over Taeyong’s, interlinking their fingers. “Taeyong. About wendigos.”

Like a naughty child, Taeyong scrunches his face and pulls his hand away, turning to the side. “I’m so sorry for lying, Jaehyun.”

“What do you mean… lying?”

“There are no wendigos near Mirror Lake. In fact, I… I don’t think wendigos exist at all.”

The Paranormal Society of UNCT, currently undertaking an expedition to Mirror Lake to find wendigos, has only a single member on the team who believes in wendigos. They just all independently lie about it. No one thinks to mention this to Lucas, who had spent many hours standing in the cold on sentinel duty against these threats. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Jaehyun says.

Taeil scowls. “The Moon doesn’t appreciate foul language.”

“My apologies to the Moon. Are you fricking with me?” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth.

Taeyong rubs his forehead. “Don’t get upset! Look, at first we did come here because of the possibilities, but then I met Taeil.” Taeil waves on cue. “There are no wendigos but there is _him_. If the university knew there was no actual reason for us to be out here, they’d cut our trips - so… I’ve had to pretend these past few years. So I’m able to meet Taeil. It’s a pilgrimage, of course.”

“It’s not a pilgrimage, that’s just called hanging out with your friends.”

“Jaehyun, please don’t be upset.”

And Jaehyun isn’t exactly upset but he’s definitely feeling about fifty different emotions right now and they’re all fighting for dominance. “You’ve been using university money and resources just to have a weekend away at the mountains and to meet up with your pal, the Moon?”

Taeyong isn't crazy. Taeyong isa fucking genius.

“Yes,” Taeyong says, hiding his face in shame. “I hope you can… I hope you can look past this betrayal. I had to tell you sooner rather than later.”

Jaehyun downs the rest of his tea in one sip and leans against the chair. “Are you… planning on telling the others?” He’s thinking of Lucas, really, who went and climbed up tall branches just to put up cameras to record nothing but falling leaves.

Taeyong shifts in his chair awkwardly. “I mean. I wasn’t planning to. I’d like to visit next year as well, you know.” He pauses. “And, uh, I mean. You know. I’d like you to come with me then as well.”

Jaehyun switches his gaze from Taeyong to Taeil and he thinks about his own moral code.

“We could always come alone, one weekend too. Without the others. And have the house to ourselves,” Taeyong adds softly, and then his hand is on Jaehyun’s thigh again.

“Can’t wait to see you again,” Jaehyun says. “I’ll bring my own tea”

◬

After seeing everything in red for all his life, Jaehyun wonders how the world looks to Taeyong. He looks up, he always look up, to the trees, to the sky, to the stars, and Jaehyun wonders if there’s something there that always captures his attention. He wonders what threads he sees, what they connect to, the way they tangle upon themselves in eternal tension, wonders what colours they are -

Is it quite so unthinkable to wonder if their threads could exist together, could be contrasting colours on the same painting? Sort of like -

Well sort of like the plaid shirt that Taeyong accepts from Jaehyun, packing it in his backpack. Jaehyun’s arms linger in the air awkwardly before he lets them fall to his sides.

“I like that shirt,” Jaehyun says. “All the red and blue and green… it looks good.”

“You haven’t even seen me wear it,” Taeyong points out, but smiles at the compliment regardless.

“Well, yes, but I think you’d look good in it. You know. Just in a general manner, you look good in most things.”

Taeyong spares Jaehyun from any further embarrassment by leaning up and leaving the smallest peck on his cheek.

“God, you guys are awful. I have to be in a _car_ with that,” Mark retches, entering the room to grab his backpack and leaving with eyes closed.

Disassembling the cabin proved to be a more time-consuming task than previously imagined. Lucas had warned them in no uncertain terms that anything they leave behind will most definitely have a fishy smell by the time they return next year, and each and every piece of camera equipment scattered around the forest had to be accounted for.

It was… sad, sort of, seeing the cabin stripped away of the brief vestiges of life it held for this brief time. But then Jaehyun remembered he hadn’t checked Instagram in literally a week, and became increasingly excited about the prospect of returning to civilization.

“Did you check under the bed?” Jaehyun asks. “Socks always land up there.”

The Jungs were effective packers, and Jaehyun was proud to say he only ever lost two things while on vacation: his notebook of hand drawn Dragon Ball Z fanart when he was eleven, and his virginity when he was 19, and frankly neither of those did he want back. Jaehyun figured the least he could do was pass on his efficient packing habits to those around him.

“Yeah, after you reminded us at breakfast,” Taeyong says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad I did. My calcium tablets rolled under the bed. Can’t leave without that. Mark calls it my boner meds even though I’ve told him like ten times it’s for _actual_ bones not- Well, you get the idea.” He’s got that dumb expression he has when he’s being shy, and by dumb, Jaehyun means it’s so ridiculously cute that he wants to squeeze his face in between in his hands. Jaehyun restrains himself, however, because he wants to maintain the illusion that his biceps are for more than just opening Yuta’s pickle jars.

“Mark is just sort of awful,” Jaehyun decides.

“The worst,” Taeyong says fondly. His fingers are swift and steady as he fastens the straps on his backpack, and he lifts it up to straighten out the sheets on his bed. Then, when he’s done with that, he dusts off his backpack. Then he zips up the sides. Then he puts on the combination lock. He’s so fucking meticulous, it’s hot.

The knock on the door drags Jaehyun back to reality, lost in his near-obsessive scrutiny of Taeyong’s packing. The knock is so reserved in nature, just two light taps on the wood, he’s not surprised at all to see Jungwoo at the door.

 “Mark and I are going to get the cameras, if that’s alright?” he says. “Lucas is already on his way down, he’s got to dismantle some of the traps we set up along the way.” Jungwoo crosses the room and hands Taeyong his cabin key.

Taeyong nods. “That sounds good. Jaehyun and I can lock up here and we can meet up at the signalling pole in like twenty minutes and walk down together?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jaehyun can’t resist chipping in with: “Did you check if you left anything under the bed?”

“Oh - I should probably check shouldn’t I? Lucas lost his entire phone here once… thanks for the reminder, Jaehyun!”

Taeyong’s eyes are on him and Jaehyun feels ridiculously self-conscious even when Jungwoo leaves the room. He tries to buy time by tying his shoelaces, but by the time he’s double knotted both the right and left leg, he looks up to find Taeyong still gazing intently.

Jaehyun swallows. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s really cute that you remind everyone to see if they forgot anything.”

“I’m a really good packer.”

“I just don’t want them to forget anything.”

“You like them, don’t you?”

Jaehyun’s eyes crinkle shut. “Ugh. I mean. Yes. Of course I do.” He’d initially classified them as all varying degrees of insane and he’d probably stick to the same descriptor, but - he did like them. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. “They’re good people. I like Lucas and his loudness, and Jungwoo and his softness and Mark and his… puberty.”

“And me?” Taeyong prompts, and now it seems he’s the one interested in Jaehyun’s shoes.

“I sort of like everything about you.”

The second Jaehyun says it he already wants to fucking die because he can literally _hear_ Yuta making fun of him in his mind and frankly it’s what he deserves for such behaviour. ‘I like everything about you’? What happened to any semblance of his dignity?

Taeyong looks up at Jaehyun and his eyes are just _filled_ with delight and they’re sparkling like the silver that glints off the key in his hand. “Oh. I like you too.”

There’s something so innocent about it. It’s like the kind of confession between kids in a school playground before they announce their impending wedding in the next recess.

A sigh leaves Taeyong’s body. “Everything, though? Jaehyun, I know you don’t really… care for my Paranormal Society. Obviously, the fact that you’ve stayed this far means a lot, but, you know this Society is very important to me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, about that, uh, I don’t think I was as much of a skeptic as I was sort of a dick,” Jaehyun says, and he’s never really been good at apologies. Whenever he and Yuta fought, which was about once a week, they’d just avoid each other until one or both of them forgot why they were angry and then they’d share Doritos while watching Rupaul’s Drag Race. But Jaehyun won’t let his past define him. He’s putting a lot of effort into this apology, he’s doing everything he’s learnt in that mandatory first year psychology module: palms facing outward, his face fixed in an expression that he hopes could be construed as solemn. “I’m... Sorry? Yes. I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Taeyong says, cheeks flushing. “I can’t expect you to give up your beliefs anymore than you can expect me to give up mine.”

“No, I did have to apologize, and you’re right, I shouldn’t expect you to give up your beliefs and I shouldn’t have even thought that,” Jaehyun inhales, “I actually had something to ask you.”

Taeyong crosses his arms, and waits for the question. In the time it takes Jaehyun to work up what little courage remains in his body, he can hear the front door close and Jungwoo must have gone with Mark now. There’s nothing to hinder his words now.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong reminds gently.

“Can I… Can I join the society?”

“What do you mean?” Taeyong says, tilting his head to the side. “This whole trip was to join the society, I’ve got a post-it strapped to my toilet roll at home to remind myself to submit your membership to the university.”

Disturbing memos aside, Jaehyun swallows. “I mean. Like, for real. As in, I want to come to meetings. I want to go on more expeditions. I want to see the things you see, I want to learn about the things you believe,” Jaehyun pauses, and he thinks of the way Taeyong’s eyes light up, the way they sparkle - and he thinks of the poster on the ceiling of this very room. “I want to believe.”

Taeyong scrutinizes Jaehyun up and down, a clinical sort of analysis and Jaehyun remains perfectly still, as if afraid movement might disturb the delicate atmosphere. He wonders if Taeyong is mentally trying to replace him with an android, and clears his throat. Jaehyun-Bot-2000 could probably accomplish this conversation with less awkward pauses.

“And, uh, well aside from the Society, I was thinking maybe when we can get back we could go for some coffee and just talk. I’m super interested in the whole Illuminati thing. Kinda fucked up they own all the banks and use robots as slaves, isn’t it?” Jaehyun isn’t actually sure if that’s what the Illuminati even does, but figures it’s close enough.

And then, because he’s Jaehyun-the-Maths-major and there’s no better way to apologize for being a dickhead by bringing up numbers, he clears his throat. “There’s this equation by which it is possible to hypothetically predict the likelihood of finding intelligent extraterrestrial life in the universe. It’s got a lot of variables, and there’s no definitive answer, but… I mean, there’s a mathematical possibility that aliens can exist. The Drake Equation proves that. You probably don’t care, but well, I thought you might find it interesting.”

“That offer to spit in my mouth still stands,” is all Taeyong says as he decisively enters Jaehyun’s personal space, twining his arms around his neck and pulling himself up to kiss him. Jaehyun’s mind is still trying to process Taeyong’s request and trying to process everything, really, but sentient thought takes a backseat when all he can feel is Taeyong’s warm body pressed up against his.

To Jaehyun’s credit, he tries to keep it chaste, for about twenty seconds, until he gives up and just grabs Taeyong by the jaw and consumes him whole. Taeyong, in response, whines and digs his nails deeper into Jaehyun’s neck. God, it was too good, it was really too good.

They’re just standing in the middle of the bedroom, ignoring the very bed of which it is named for, because the time it would take to relocate would be precious seconds that they’d have to stop touching, and that was just a sacrifice Jaehyun was frankly not prepared to make. He tilts their hips together and is rewarded with an unrestrained whine from Taeyong. 

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong twisting from the kiss, to which Jaehyun drops his lips down to the column of his neck. “Jaehyun, hold on I need to tell you something, hold _on_ ,” he squeaks at the last word as Jaehyun bares teeth. “We’re alone in the house, you know. It’s just you and me and it’s the only time we’ll be alone for - _ah_ \- a while.”

Jaehyun regretfully detaches himself from Taeyong’s clavicle and pulls back slightly to gaze into Taeyong’s eyes as if to determine if he’s actually suggesting what he thinks he is. “Are you…”

As if to reply, Taeyong tilts his hips forward, with careful direction. “It’ll be _ages_ before we get a moment alone again.” Jaehyun attempts and fails to suppress the groan that escapes his mouth.

“We have about like. Fifteen minutes before Jungwoo is expecting us.”

“That’s enough time,” Taeyong pouts.

Jaehyun would usually argue and let his ego take control and say that _actually_ , fifteen minutes wouldn’t even begin to cover a quarter of Jaehyun’s intense stamina, and also, his refractory period was nonexistent, just by the way. But also, if Taeyong mentioned anything about spitting again, it’s quite possible Jaehyun would probably be done in about, oh, twenty-three seconds. “Taeyong, we have a seven hour hike down and we can’t make a mess.”

And Taeyong just looks up at him through batted lashes and says, “there’s no mess if I swallow.”

And Jaehyun knows in that moment Taeyong is actually going to kill him. Taeyong is going to kill him and there’ll be definitive proof that life exists after death because Jaehyun will come back as a ghost and he’ll still be having the erection he died with after hearing that.

Taeyong doesn’t drop to his knees, he’s more classy than that - he leans up to kiss Jaehyun again, hands trailing up the span of his abdomen, and right when Jaehyun tries to hold him closer, Taeyong bends down, quite elegantly, and rests his fingers on Jaehyun’s waistband, as if waiting for a prompt.

“ _Taeyong_ …” is all Jaehyun can really say, and he has no idea what he means by this. Probably something around the vicinity of “Taeyong, a single human being can’t be this attractive”.

And then Taeyong just rests his hand right above where Jaehyun’s zipper is, cupping him with enough pressure to take his breath away but nowhere near enough friction as he requires. “Though, if you think that’ll take too long, we don’t have to. I could just, get up? And we could start walking. For seven hours. And then of course, there’s the overnight car ride, and then we have to drop Mark off, and as soon as I get back I need to submit the report and you’ll definitely have class, so I don’t know, I guess we could hang out in a week or so-”

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong back by his hair more roughly than he intended and leans down, running a hand across the side of his face and presses his thumb down on his pursed lips, which fall open. Leaning closely, so close he can feel the moisture from his breath intermix with his own, Jaehyun spits into his mouth.

Taeyong licks his lips, and _swallows_ , biting down when it’s gone. “You changed your mind.”

“Yes, I’m becoming a lot more tolerant these days. But also, we really only have like. Twelve minutes at most, and I really don’t want your brother to walk in on us, so-” Jaehyun doesn’t really have half the words out of his mouth when Taeyong unzips his pants in one swift movement, and then, right, okay now Jaehyun might come in the next instant. If he seriously was getting head just because he vaguely suggested the Illuminati might control the banks, just _wait_ until he tells Taeyong his new thoughts on aliens. He’ll probably get so overstimulated he won’t be able to switch on the lights without cumming in his pants.

There’s a song on Abbey Road, the superior Beatles album in Jaehyun’s humble opinion, and he’s reminded of it when he stares down at Taeyong. “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” is a song that Jaehyun’s never quite been able to relate to because personally, he’s never wanted to bone someone so badly that he’d write a seven minute song about them - but then he’s met Taeyong, and now he’s certain he can make it into a full on album. And all this thinking of Jaehyun’s favourite song is really just reminding him of _one_ thing that he cannot just let Taeyong continue believing-

“Paul isn’t dead, by the way,” Jaehyun says, unable to stop himself.

“Can we not talk about Paul McCartney when I have your dick in my mouth?” Taeyong frowns, slipping off of Jaehyun for a moment and the loss of heat and warmth and overall pleasure is enough to make Jaehyun shut up and decide that the Beatles are not worth an aborted blowjob, no matter how good their songs were.

 “Okay, fine, fine I’m sorry,” Jaehyun is quick to say. “If it’s any consolation, I do think Johnny Seo could be the Zodiac Killer.”

This seems to satisfy Taeyong, who sounds out a low purr, and slides his mouth back on Jaehyun’s dick, nails digging into his thighs. The pressure of Taeyong’s tongue against his dick is kind of incredible and Jaehyun might fall backwards if it were not for the hand currently rooted in Taeyong’s hair. Taeyong may not be a very good kisser - and it may be because he spent his time refining his technique in _this_.

 He tried looking at Taeyong at first, but it’s like staring into the sun, it’s literally too hot and Jaehyun’s retinas threaten to explode. He’s got his eyes focused on the ceiling and he can see the cracks, he can see the mold and, really, all he can see the X-Files poster, the one that’s faded onto the ceiling. The poster is stuck on with washi tape, green with pink spots and Jaehyun can just imagine how Taeyong probably made Mark lift him up to stick it on the ceiling, being overly precise about the angle. 

He’s so fucking cute, Taeyong is literally the cutest individual in the whole world and Jaehyun’s filled with an immeasurable fondness and he hasn’t often ejaculated because of affection before, but there’s a first time for everything because he barely has time to grip his hands tighter into Taeyong’s hair before he comes.

Jaehyun takes several seconds to compose his breathing and when he looks down, Taeyong is still on his knees, looking up at Jaehyun with unabashed affection. True to his word, there’s no mess, not even a single stray stain on his jeans, but Taeyong’s lips are spitslicked wet. He was… actually kind of perfect.

“How much time have we got left?” Jaehyun manages to word, as the post-orgasmic haze recedes and he regains control over his mental facilities, reaching to cup Taeyong’s cheek.

“I don’t have a phone, Jaehyun, you know this,” he says, nuzzling into Jaehyun’s hand, leaving kitten kisses along the palm. Jaehyun would have to do something about that, it’ll be hard to sext via smoke signals or whatever the fuck Taeyong uses to communicate.

Using his left hand, because he’d rather lose the arm than remove his hand from Taeyong’s cheek, Jaehyun reaches into his back pocket for his watch and does some mental math. “We have like. Four minutes left.”

“Can you get me off that fast?” Taeyong asks. “If you can’t, it’s fine, I don’t really mind, I just really wanted to do this.”

And now Jaehyun smirks, and he leans down, not fully bending, still maintaining height difference over Taeyong, and the same hand he used to caress his cheek now forcefully pulls his red hair back, and the moan that escapes Taeyong’s lips resounds across the empty house.

“Oh!” Taeyong squeaks.

Jaehyun stares into his heavy-lidded eyes that flutter when Jaehyun brings his lips closer and closer to his mouth. He inhales, and using his thumb to part Taeyong’s waiting lips, he spits. Taeyong’s tongue instantly moves to swallow but Jaehyun prevents that with a careful hand, pressing his mouth open, dragging the saliva out as it dribbles over his chin and hand. He never breaks eye contact. It’s wet and disgusting, and the look in Taeyong’s eyes is alluring like the sweetest delicacy there is. In a swift motion, he shoves his hand in the front of Taeyong’s pants, slicking up and down his dick with his wet palm.

Jaehyun presses his lips next to the shell of Taeyong’s ear, and he drags his teeth down the earlobe before whispering, “I think I can. I’ll try very hard.” 

**◬**

“Did you get a rash?” Yuta asks, pressing the phone right up to his eye because only the best possible medical examinations are done by Mr Nakamoto Yuta, veterinarian in training.

“It's a fucking hickey, you cretin.”

“See, that's what I thought, and then I wondered what sane person would want to sleep with you. Then, it occurred to me, perhaps they weren't sane at all-”

“Don't make jokes about him being crazy anymore.” Jaehyun says it quickly, as if words are too unfamiliar to keep in his mouth for too long.

Yuta's eyes widen. “Really? Didn't you once refer to him as that breakfast cereal with the toucan?”

“Fruit Loops? Yeah I know.” Jaehyun sighs, leaning against the toilet seat. “I know. But… I shouldn’t have done that. A lot of things have happened these past few days. I think I've changed. I’m… trying to be a better person.”

“You know Jaehyun, that's the amazing thing about you, you get the vaguest definition of a dicking down and you suddenly become a new person. First it was that skater girl and your subsequent obsession with skating followed by your subsequent hospital visit. And then remember when you were vegan for like a month when you dated the guy from Greenpeace? Wild. You made me eat Halloumi. I still don't know what the fuck that is.”

“Halloumi is a vegetable. Stop being uncultured.”

“Halloumi is actually a type of cheese,” a voice calls from outside the bathroom door.

“Oh. Sorry, turns out Halloumi is cheese,” Jaehyun repeats.

Yuta raises an eyebrow. He’s had them recently waxed. Glad to know he’s living up. “Where the fuck are you? Whose voice was that?”

Jaehyun considers lying and then figures Yuta isn't worth it. He switches to the back camera, giving Yuta full view of the toilet paper holder hanging on the bathroom door.

“Bathroom,” he answers cheerfully. “Don’t you like the potpourri?”

“We're too comfortable with each other,” Yuta says when Jaehyun switches the camera back. “That bathroom is too nice for a gas station though, where are you?”

“Taeyong's parents house. We're dropping Mark off.” Jaehyun had never been quite so pleased to pull up into a suburban driveway in his life, not even his own.

“Yes, but whose voice _was_ that?” Yuta persists.

“Oh, it was just Jungwoo. I think he wants to use the bathroom.”

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “I would actually,” Jungwoo says. “But, please feel free to finish your phone conversation first, I don’t want to intrude.”

“What a nice boy,” Yuta remarks. “He’s a good balance to your tower of awfulness.”

Jaehyun missed Yuta. He really, really did. And he was about to say something to that effect when he notices the Battlefield poster on the wall. “Are you in my room again?”

“Oh, do you mean mine and Doyoung’s sex dungeon? Yeah, pretty much, I haven’t seen sunlight in like. Damn, a month?” Yuta says, stretching his arms out.

“I’ve been gone a week, stop being dramatic and get you and your fuckbuddy out of there. And launder my damn sheets. Honestly, I’m so glad to be on my way back.”

It was bittersweet saying farewell to Mark. It was sweet because he got to finally say goodbye to Mark - and actually no, it was just great, there was nothing sad about it. Mark jumped out of the car and told all of them to fuck off and that they weren’t allowed in his house and then slammed the door in their faces.

Taeyong, apparently having predicted this, pulled out his own set of housekeys and invited them all in to meet his parents and have a much needed bathroom break.

“I kind of wish you stayed longer. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know, and I really feel like if you spent another month or so away I’d _really_ be super fond of you,” Yuta says, looking into the distance.

Jaehyun shows him the middle finger with his newly healed scar.

“You know, though, if you’re at Mark’s house doesn’t that mean… you’ve met Taeyong’s parents?”

He purses his lips. Mr and Mrs Lee were not the sort of people he was expecting to have raised children like Taeyong and Mark, one a conspiracy theorist with a spitting kink and the other having attained all his cultural and worldview knowledge from copies of MAD Magazine from the 60’s. Mr and Mrs Lee were charming, nice, and offered them all tea - and a charging point for his phone.

“It’s so nice that the boys get out together,” Mrs Lee had said, smiling broadly at Jaehyun. “They’ve always been very close. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen the two of them staying up, watching one of their little movies!”

To which Mark had responded, in a tone of pure disgust: “They’re called documentaries, Mom.”

At one point, Mr Lee mentioned a fondness for rubber soled boots and Mrs Lee agreed, and both siblings rolled their eyes. Still, Jaehyun enjoyed meeting their parents, if just to try and better understand the way in which Taeyong and Mark ended up as they did. 

“Well, it’s not like Taeyong introduced me as his boyfriend or anything. That would be a bit much, wouldn’t you say? We only met a week ago.”

Yuta shrugs. “I don’t know man. I mean, I skyped with Doyoung’s family from Korea while we were in bed yesterday, met his grandmother and everything. Relationships are weird.” He pauses, lost in thought. “I think I may actually have gotten engaged. Either that or I got cursed. I’m not sure, I didn’t understand her dialect.”

“What the fuck have you been _doing_ while I was gone, who _is_ this guy-” Jaehyun pauses. “Nevermind, we’ll talk about that later. I did want to tell you that Taeyong’s room is fucking insane.”

“Ooh, blood on the walls?” Yuta says, eyes growing wide with excitement.

“Why would there be blood on the walls in his own room? He’s into aliens, not _murder_. No, actually the windows are boarded up and it’s soundproofed. There are stacks of newspaper everywhere, I feel like walking into that place is like asking for a papercut. But the coolest thing was this thing on his ceiling, he’s got this massive corkboard with these newspaper clippings, photographs and police reports all linked together with cotton, like from movies. It’s absolutely _amazing_.”

“God, Jaehyun, you’re so fucking whipped,” Yuta says derisively, but he’s smiling.

Jaehyun was about to launch into a courtroom-worthy invalidation when there’s a knock on the bathroom again.

“Jaehyun, I do apologize, I am sorry for interrupting, but I really, _really_ need to use the bathroom, could you _please_ finish up, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

Jungwoo’s showing off for Mrs Lee, but his request is fair. The bathroom isn’t _really_ the best place to have a prolonged conversation.

“One more minute,” Jaehyun begs, “Let me just say goodbye.”

“What more do you _possibly_ have to tell me that cannot wait till I see you in like a few hours?” Yuta says, rolling his eyes.

“Me and Taeyong made out in his childhood bedroom and it was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Even though his Gundam figurines fell against my face when he slammed me against the headrest too hard.”

Yuta doesn’t blink. “If that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done, get a fucking fetish, Jaehyun.”

And Jaehyun’s meant to go into further detail but Jungwoo’s knocking again and he’s pretty sure he can hear Lucas coming up the stairs as well, and he doesn’t want to have a whole battle in the bathroom right now, so he says his farewell to Yuta as well as a threatening reminder to him that the only twink Jaehyun should find in his bedroom when he returns should be Jaehyun’s own reflection.

And this time on the drive back, it’s just Taeyong and Jaehyun in the backseat, and even though they look out of different windows as they speed down the highway, their hands are entwined.

Jaehyun looks forward to seeing Yuta when he gets back, and recounting what happened in Taeyong’s bedroom in clearer detail. Because it wasn’t just what he bragged about in those few seconds in the Lee’s bathroom.

 

The Eye of Providence is imagery associated with the Freemasons for as long as the secret society has been in existence. At some point the symbol of an eyeball in a pyramid was meant to represent the all-seeing eye of God watching over humanity from a menacing distance - this meaning is all but lost in the more modern day links with the Illuminati. Still, of all places to find it: on dollar bills, on the signs of buildings, on flags of nations, Jaehyun had never expected to see the Eye of Providence, right there on the curve of Taeyong’s ass.

“You have a tattoo?” Jaehyun attempted to keep his disbelief to acceptable levels, pulling Taeyong back to eyelevel. It’s fine, this is fine, he just needs to embrace that this is happening.

And Taeyong flushed, but when he speaks, it’s possessing an incredible amount of dignity. “It was my present to myself after I stopped using my crutches. I wanted something to symbolize my passion - as well as remind me about my eternal pursuit of the truth.”

Alright, alright that’s _fair_. “Why… that particular location?”

“I couldn’t let Mark know! He’d get something ridiculous like a face tattoo of a skeleton on fire.”

“Oh, that’s a valid concern,” Jaehyun remarks, nodding.

“Exactly. So it had to be some place inconspicuous.” Jaehyun’s on his back and Taeyong’s on top of him, sucking and biting deep purple marks into his neck but Jaehyun’s quite preoccupied with getting into the finer details of this frankly fascinating side to Taeyong. “And, well, I think it’s kind of… hot.”

It was - in a ‘the government can’t stop our love’ kinda way. “So you got the Eye of Providence?”

And Taeyong blinks, moving back, a smile growing on his face. “You know what it is?”

“I mean, yeah, of course I know what the Eye of Providence looks like. I’m part of the Paranormal Society.”  

“I didn’t think you would, to be honest.”

Jaehyun stares up at Taeyong’s doe-like eyes, and thinks he wants to keep that look of absolute wonder in his face saved in his heart. And then he recites what he sees on the poster next to him, attempting to keep a straight face. “We’re all puppets. I just see the strings.”

“Don’t make fun, that’s my next tattoo,” Taeyong says, but the corners of his eyes crinkle in happiness. He murmurs something soft in the side of Jaehyun’s neck before pressing their lips together again, breath and saliva and sweat merging in the darkness of Taeyong’s old bedroom. “You should get one too. The whole Society should.”

“We can discuss it at the next meeting, I’m certain.” There’s something so endearingly _sweet_ about Taeyong especially at the way he smiles, like right now.

Jaehyun looks up at the giant corkboard on the ceiling of his bedroom, painstakingly curated, a personal account of Taeyong’s passion, hundreds of headlines, of diary entries, of photos, of sketches, of poetry, of articles, of every kind of media imaginable carefully collected and pinned to the corkboard and connecting them all is a long tangled mass of cotton thread - and the thread is red.

 

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

 

The force at which Taeil shuts the door causes paint flecks to fall off, gently cascading to the ground like the snowfall outside. He unearths the large steel key around his neck and locks his cabin, double-checking the handle. The last thing he needs is to come back for his summer vacation and see that someone’s gone and stolen his kettle and voodoo dolls.

Taeil isn’t sentimental, he thinks that Sun-folk are more those kind of people. The Moons prefer to just disappear, they don’t bother with prolonged farewells. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have many other mountain friends, it’ll be quick to just let them know he’s going away for a bit. It’s pretty much just Taeyong, and his cabin is on the way down, easily visible by that massive lake.

He shifts his backpack over his shoulders and starts hiking from his peak of the mountain, his legs starting to protest after the first few steps. When he first came up here as a twenty-two year old, he was just so much more prepared for the journey. Coming down a few years later is just _awful_.

Still, he’s looking forward to going back. As he’s making his way down the mountain, taking careful slow steps to avoid skidding on the snow, he realizes that beneath the nervousness, he’s actually kind of _excited_.

Moon Taeil, Disciple, Descendant of the Moon, Gemini, Practitioner of Voodoo, and now - _Theology major_.  It just sounds _good_.

He takes a turn at this particular rock outcropping, if his memory serves him correctly, this is the way to that cabin that Taeyong’s friends use. It’s nicer than Taeil’s, he begrudgingly admits, but he’d rather die than sleep next to that lake. It just _looks_ like things live in it.

He met up with Taeyong and the other guy a week ago, the one who’s name he always forgets. The skeptic one, the one with the orange aura. They came over for tea, said something about having a ‘lover’s getaway’. They seem happy.

Perhaps this is the year for change, Taeil reflects to himself. He looks up at the sky, and smiles, feeling Her Holy Lunar Presence guiding him. It’s around this time that he notices the trail of blood leading down the slope, but it’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, and Taeil views it with relative neutrality. There were plenty of deer on this mountain - and there were no shortage of wolves. Still, he pauses and sends a silent prayer to the Moon on the deceased’s behalf when he passes the red snow.

Taeil hopes thathis classmates are open-minded folk. Perhaps he should consider doing what Taeyong did - a Paranormal Society? That could work? He could assemble some like-minded individuals and teach them the ways of the Moon. He’ll have to balance his coursework, obviously, Moon Taeil is no failing student. It’s A’s all the way.

It’s strange, really, because most of the time the mountain is devoid of any signs of life, it’s just so _colossal_ \- but right now, if he looks down from this angle, he can see a figure _sprinting_ down, jumping over boulders, weaving through the gaps in the forest. It’s the orange-aura man, it dawns on Taeil, he recognizes the bronze hair. He seems to be yelling, his voice carried through the open air, echoing out, but the words are impossible to decipher.

Ah, it isn’t important. He can assume there’s another figure following him, judging from the way he keeps looking back. It’s just so typical Taeyong to be playing in the snow again, just like when Taeil met him. Oh, to be young and in love, Taeil thinks to himself fondly, shaking his head as he keeps walking down. He hopes by the time he arrives, they’ll be back home. They should be anyway, they aren’t carrying half of their possessions on their back.

When he’s back in civilization, Taeil decides, the first thing he’s going to do is order some waffles. He’s really missed having some warm breakfast food, his usual diet being comprised of venison pies and whatever mushrooms he digs out. He wonders what sort of music has been released lately. He remembers he really liked One Direction, he hopes they released a new album. Oh, and of course, he should probably call his mother. Well, he should buy a phone first. And then call his mother, his Earthly mother, just let her know that he wasn’t dead, just on his pilgrimage.

Taeil only realizes he’s arrived when he sees the icy barrier that signifies the lake. Whisper Lake? Mirror Lake? Something generic like that, he remembers. Carefully stepping away from the lake, Taeil makes his way to the front door of the cabin. Taeil doesn’t consider himself a fearful person, but there’s something about this lake that’s positively eerie. Even now, in broad daylight, he can make out an obscured figure in the trees surrounding the water - but it’s probably just Taeyong, still playing around. Taeil shakes his head, amused by his own silly paranoia.

He’s always impressed by how much _bigger_ this cabin is compared to his own - but, he supposes, his cabin is just meant for one disciple, not ever how many of the scamps Taeyong has running around. At his feet, there’s a torn piece of fabric and Taeil tuts, rolling his eyes. These insatiable youth, not even able to make it into their bedroom without ripping their clothes off. He hopes they’re decent at the very least.

Taeil raises his hand to knock on the door, and he notices two things at about the same time. The first is that the door is locked, which is fairly innocuous. Leaving the door open is an invitation for frost to settle on all your possessions. And Taeyong knows this, he’s been coming here for years. But Taeil can also see the door’s been _bolted_ which is rather strange since it’s still the afternoon.

The second thing he notices is that the door is in rather awful condition, splinters sticking out of it. It’s actually really peculiar because upon further investigation, there seems to be claw marks on the door, deeply embedded into the wood.

“Taeyong?” Taeil calls out. Oh my Moon, what was that other one’s name... “Jaehyun? Are you there?”

There’s no reply. In fact, there’s nothing at all. Taeil moves to the front window, and sighs in relief. There they are, the two of them, sitting side by side on the couch. A twig cracks in the distance even though he stands still. He can see that they’re laughing but it’s rather difficult to hear over the eclipsing sound of the whistle.   

**Author's Note:**

> i would strongly recommend everyone listens to [I Want You (She's So Heavy)](https://open.spotify.com/track/6gLmFcRwyQCQT23Df2Re9G?si=MyOEZXSdTMq-LLtPGnPGog), consider it a personal recommendation from the paranormal society. i hope you enjoyed and if you did, i'd love to hear your comments! feedback and kudos are super appreciated! <3 
> 
> EDIT: you can find the most cutest fanart in the world [here!](https://twitter.com/acduq/status/1015735595732066305)  
> you can find me on:  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/minhyukwithagun/)  
> \- [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/minhyukwithagun/)  
> \- [tumblr](http://jungwoop.tumblr.com/)  
> \- under your local drawbridge
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


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